


Nothing Breaks Like A Heart

by Mintsea



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Barry/Oliver friendship, Canon divergent from 7x10, Elseworlds rewrite, Everyone finally gives poor Oliver some credit, Felicity actually has a REAL role in Elseworlds, Felicity defends Oliver to Iris, Oliver and Felicity deal with their issues in a logical mature way, Post 7x08, Post Elseworlds, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, non-smutty reunion sex (sorry), olicity - Freeform, post 7x07, post 7x09
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2019-09-30 09:27:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17221298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mintsea/pseuds/Mintsea
Summary: A mid season 7 and Elseworlds Crossover fix it fic. Silences, missing scenes and rewrites from 7x07 through end of crossover.*NEW CHAPTER*Five: Elseworlds, Part 1If they are going to get it the bottom of waking up in each other’s lives, Oliver and Barry are going to need Felicity’s help. But things rarely go as planned and Felicity isn’t just going to let Oliver off the hook for missing their counselling session that damn easy…





	1. One (Post 7x07)

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This is mega angsty. 7x08 and Elseworlds were really lacking in properly tacking Oliver and Felicity’s issues post Slabside. I decided to do my own version. It’ll be largely canon compliant, and I am going to write around those awful scenes we did get and hopefully make them better (you’ll be the judge). 
> 
> **Nothing Breaks Like A Heart** is pure genius by Mark Ronson and Miley. I hope you enjoy it’s addition to this story. 
> 
> There is a trigger warning here for depression, PTSD and domestic violence (very very minor). Just FYI. Please, read responsibly, and if the themes covered in this story stir up anything and you need to talk to someone about, please reach out to the relevant Lifeline hotline or organisation in your country. 
> 
> Thank you for reading.

**Nothing Breaks Like A Heart**

_**One.** _

**[This world can hurt you**   
**It cuts you deep and leaves a scar...]**

It’s a choppy boat-ride back to the mainland from Slabside, and the trip is spent mostly in silence with Oliver’s hand gripped in Felicity’s tightly, her hushed and urgent conversation with John about next steps washing over him, not one detail sinking in as the fresh air whips around them. No one asks about the blood, no one comments directly to him, but he knows they know what happened during the riot.

They’d been briefed by the Warden (who’d managed to enjoy the safety of his ivory tower office during the insanity) about the details while Oliver had gone through his discharge process. They had offered him the chance to change and to shower before he left, but Oliver had refused. He’d never left anything but clothes at the prison, his watch, phone and wedding ring had all been returned to Felicity after his arrest, but even those, the jeans, maroon pullover and desert boots that had become his off-duty (from city hall and as the Green Arrow) uniform were now tainted with the stench of Slabside. The stench Oliver could smell on himself now, the scent so putrid in his nose he can hardly breathe. That and the stench of blood, of his, of Diaz’s...of god knows who’s.

He feels lightheaded, exhausted, overwhelmed. He feels relieved, loved and bruised. He feels guilty. Guilty that he didn’t kill Diaz. Guilty that he feels guilty for not killing Diaz. Guilty that he’s put Felicity...William...John...through all of this...

He doesn’t realise that his eyes are closed, that he’d taken a few minutes to just be until he feels the boat lurch at the dock, until Felicity squeezes his hand, encouraging his eyes to open with a soft “Oliver...”

And then he opens his eyes, and the world comes rushing back in, full colour, full sound and full life. And then they are moving, disembarking from the boat, ushered into a black SUV waiting for them. John climbs into the driver’s seat, leaving the back for Felicity and Oliver. Oliver moves numbly, hand still tightly encased in Felicity’s, his brain and body moving slowly, the shock settling into his body along with the bone-deep exhaustion of being awake for nearly two days.

It’s not just the riot that’s pulling him under, it’s everything. It’s Slabside. It’s in his bones, his chest, his lungs. His blood. His head...

The door shuts with a loud slam, and Oliver winces, his eyes on his lap and the one hand resting there, covered in grime and blood, his knuckles torn to pieces.

Felicity squeezes his other hand within both of hers, her brow knitting. “We’ll get you a shower as soon as we can,” she tells him. “I’m sorry, just a little while longer...”

He nods, eyes closed again, his breathing shallow but even. He’s doing everything he can to keep calm, the anxiety rolling off him in waves. Not many people have seen this side of him, this broken shell of the incredible man she’s loved for so long; but, she has. She knows this side of him intimately, and it’s taking everything in her power right now to not throw her arms around him again and kiss him, comfort him. Because she knows how this works. If she pushes too quickly, he spooks. And she can’t handle that right now.

It’s okay,” He croaks hoarsely. “I just want to go home.”

“We’re on our way baby, I promise. We’re on our way home.”

_**[Things fall apart  
**_ _**but nothing breaks like a heart…]** _

 

*

At John’s advice, they pull off the road not far from the airport at a Motel 6 and he runs in for the key to a room. He’s only gone a couple of minutes, before Oliver finally opens his eyes again, the anxiety subsiding enough for him to take in his bearings. The Motel 6 is decrepit and dodgy, and given the proximity to Slabside has a colourful history as the first stop of released inmates. The man behind the desk offers to arrange a number of different “services”, but John assures him they just need the room for less than an hour to shower and change for their flight, and that the only “services” needed require hot water and clean towels.

They come to find out the hot water is patchy and the level of cleanliness of the supposedly freshly laundered grey towel is debatable, but Oliver seems nonplussed, diligently following Felicity into the small decrepit bathroom with the duffle of items she’s brought with her.

She busies herself unpacking everything on the grimy sink while he watches, sitting on the closed lid of the ensuite toilet. Everything is new, deodorant, soap, shampoo, a razor, some shaving cream and new beard clippers, as well as a Bunker grade first aid kit that she’d instinctively thrown in and now is incredibly grateful for given the state of him. She also pulls out his old clothes, clean jeans, a grey T-shirt, and his old leather jacket. It hurts seeing these things for his previous life more than he’d ever imagined, and he just watches her numbly unable to move or speak.

She gives him a small encouraging smile as she pushes up the sleeve on her top and reaches into the small shower cubicle to turn on the water. He enjoys searing hot showers, and soon the room fills with the sound and steam, and it rips through him.

Felicity turns back to him. “Do you need a hand getting undressed?...”

Showering together is something they’d always enjoyed. It helped with a hectic life. It was a staple in their sexual routine. Now the idea of showering with someone in the same room, even her, it makes him feel sick and uneasy. He’s going to need some time before his anxieties about not being alone in the shower subside.

Oliver shakes his head, his eyes pleading with her to understand as he replies. “No...” He croaks, “I can manage. Do you mind-“ he swallows thickly, fighting back the wave of emotions tearing through his head and heart, “do you think I could have a moment?”

He sees the hurt flash across her face before she smiles somewhat sympathetically, her hands shaking a little as she rubs them together nervously.

“Right, yes, of course, you’ve had zero privacy for months and here I am just standing here demanding you get undressed...”

“Felicity,” Oliver whispers sadly getting to his feet because fuck, he didn’t mean to make her feel bad, but she gives him a look that silences him from protesting.

“I’ll just be on the other side of the door if you need me...” she tells him, stepping around him carefully and reaching for the door handle.

“I don’t want you to go...I just...I just need a minute,” he pleads, and the complete anguish in his tone has her own composure rotting away with each second.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she tells him, sniffling back tears. “I understand. Just knock if you need me okay?”

He nods and he squeezes his eyes shut to try and keep everything in.

“Okay,” he agrees, and then she’s gone, slipping through the small crack in the door and closing it again quickly, leaving him alone.

Just like he asked, like he wanted, but certainly not like he needed.

 

*

_**[These silver bullet cigarettes  
**_ _**This burning house, there's nothing left  
** _ __**It's smoking, we both know it…]**

After he showers he has Felicity help him with the beard clippers, not trusting his own shaky fingers and the throbbing pain in his arms and shoulders to do a decent job. He’ll feel it for days to come and while the pain is fraying his nerves tremendously, it’s welcome, reminds him he’s alive and what he just fought for. He fought for her. He fought for them. Them and their son.

He watches her carefully as she carefully trims his unruly long beard back to its regular length in silence. They can’t seem to find the words. The thoughts and feelings hang in the air around them, but this is hard. So hard. Harder than it’s ever been. He knows she’s angry, her emotions licking at him like flames from a fire, but she won’t say it. She won’t say how angry she is at him and he doesn’t know how to meet her in the middle. He only knows how to throw himself at her feet and grovel, but he knows that’s almost worst. When she’s done, when he finally once again looks like her Oliver, she scratches her fingertips through his stubble for a few moments, her gaze boring into his.

“I love you,” she tells him sadly caressing his cheek. “I love you so much that sometimes it is unbearable.”

He nods, swallowing thickly. “I sometimes think being unbearable is a superpower of mine,” he admits.

And she huffs a bitter teary laugh. “I love you anyway Oliver. It just sucks.”

“It does,” he agrees sadly. “I love you too. I always will.”

“I know,” Felicity nods, taking a step back from him to begin to pack up the toiletries she’s brought.

They don’t finish their conversation because John knocks on the door just moments later reminding them if they are going to make their flight, then they need to leave.

_**[We got all night to fall in love  
**_ _**But just like that, we fall apart  
** _ __**We're broken, we're broken]**

__

*

 Their seats - Felicity and Oliver, and John - aren’t together despite flying business class on ARGUS’ dime, and Oliver gets the impression that it was planned this way as a way to hide the every growing iciness between John and Felicity.

As good friends they would normally talk freely and openly about anything, but their small talk today even in light of the day’s grim beginnings is almost non-existent. It’s barely friendly, and a lot of that animosity and frostiness is surprisingly coming from Felicity. Oliver sees the way John tends to back out of a curt comment from Felicity diplomatically, with a certain amount of guilt riding his well-schooled features.

“Things are tense between you and John,” Oliver notes once they are seated and belted in, and Felicity makes a face at his statement.

“I hadn’t noticed,” she tells him, and he knows it a lie.

Oliver turns in his seat to look at her, she has the window seat, and she fidgets awkwardly with her seat belt. Felicity heaves a deep sigh when Oliver doesn’t immediately drop it and look away. She frowns at him and heaves a deep pained sigh. She doesn’t want to have this conversation, he can tell, but she’s been expecting it.

“While you were…away, I never gave up on trying to find Diaz or a way to free you. I even convinced Samandra Watson to try and help you. Which she did for a while. But, John did give up. He gave up on Diaz, on you...on me. He told me to move on. To move mine and William’s life forward without you. As you can imagine, I didn’t find much faith in his advice. So, we aren’t exactly on the best of terms right now, because when I needed him most, he wasn’t there for me. And that hurt.”

Oliver’s brow knits. This is all news to him. John had led him to believe during their regular visits that he had been keeping an eye on Felicity. Keeping her and William safe. “That doesn’t sound like the end-“

“Well it is,” she says hotly cutting him off, pulling the tech magazine she’d brought from the airport cafe out of her handbag. She flips it open and starts pretending to read it and he frowns.

Oliver relents sinking back into his seat. He catches the eye of the guy two rows up, who's trying to take a rather inconspicuous selfie and get him in the picture. Oliver frowns, shuffles his way further down into the seat, pulls the ball cap he’d been wearing for anonymity and to help hide some of the cuts and marks on his face from the riot down to shield him a little more, and closes his eyes. Right before takeoff, Felicity ditches the magazine in the seat pocket and reaches for his hand. He opens his eyes to find she has her own pressed closed, and he swears once his are closed again too, he hears her sob.

They hold hands the whole flight home, fingers knitted together in a desperate grip that says they are both trying to hold on whatever they can. Whatever’s left in the ash

_**[Well, there's broken silence  
**_ _**By thunder crashing in the dark  
** _ _**And this broken record  
** _ _**Spin endless circles in the bar  
** _ _**This world can hurt you  
** _ _**It cuts you deep and leaves a scar  
** _ __**Things fall apart, but nothing breaks like a heart...]**

__

*

The trio are made at the airport on arrival in Star City, and there is a rush of paparazzi screeching questions, grabbing at them and jostling for money shots of the newly freed Green Arrow the moment they arrive in baggage claim. Oliver holds to Felicity tightly, and to his relief, John does too, and they pull Felicity through the crowd protectively, shielding her as much as they. Once again John slides into the driver's seat of another black SUV, them in the back, and in the lonely silence of the SUV, Felicity finally breaks their enclasped hands, the distance between them edging further into their reality.

She’s downright obsessive when they settle into the new apartment she’d rented for them just a couple of days ago.

The security is over the top and complicated, including retina scans and thumbprints and 12 digit 8 hourly rotating codes that send sharp stabbing pains to Oliver’s gut and chest as he listens to her strict instructions on usage. While it’s a similar colour scheme to their old place, it feels different, colder, more sterile. She tells him she only moved in on the weekend, once his release from Slabside had been confirmed, but hasn’t had time to replace most of the furniture yet, or get what’s left of their things post their apartment being shot up from storage.

“There are some boxes at John and Lyla’s still,” she admits fussing over the green woven rug hanging over the back of the couch, picking at a couple of pulled thread as she talks. “Travel and wedding photos and things from William’s room that survived. It didn’t feel right to keep anything at the loft while we were gone. Especially after Diaz ransacked it too.”

The new apartment feels like a jail cell. He feels like he’s back in maximum security and it’s terrifying.

 

*

They dance around the idea of sleeping arrangements, before Felicity admits she’d been sleeping on his side of the bed since he left, the side closest to the door, and she’s not really willing to give that up. She doesn’t have the nerve to not; it helps her feel in control. He wants to argue, that he can’t rest that way, knowing she’s between him and the rest of the world, but he relents, whatever she needs. Whatever she needs to feel safe, even if it squeezes some of the air from his lungs.

They sleep on their separate sides of the bed without touching, without any intimacy. A wall has gone up between them, a wall erected by Felicity after their moment together in the Motel 6 bathroom, and one he’s not ready or together enough to try and breach. He tells himself tomorrow will be different, it’ll all be back to normal, but just before he finds sleep, a voice in the back of his mind reminds him that this is all his own doing. This is their new normal and he better figure it out quick.

Oliver’s sleep is deep and filled with nightmares. He’s back at Slabside. He’s in Nanda Parbat, and Russia, and Hong Kong, and Lian Yu (over and over again). He dreams about facing Diaz in his old cell, holding him to the ground, his hands around Diaz’s neck as he wages if he should snap it and end it all…and Oliver only wakes to Felicity’s loud desperate sobs for him to wake up, and to both of their terror, his hands actually around her neck as he pins her into the mattress

He’s on the other side of the room in an instant, and so is she, fleeing the bedroom in tears, putting distance between them as she fights for air. She sinks to the floor outside the bedroom door, her back against the wall as she sobs, and listens to Oliver literally crumble to pieces in despair in the next room.

“I’m sorry,” he cries in desperate sobs, falling to his knees on the wool carpet as tears stream down his face. “Felicity I didn’t-I would never...I...” He panics because this is so so very bad. This is the final nail in the coffin. He attacked her. Their marriage has to be over now. He’s a monster, he should be in jail...he wants to be back their right now so that she’s safe from him…so he can’t hurt them. ”Felicity, please don’t leave me,” he begs. “Please don’t take our son.”

The words fall on her like a bucket of cold water, and they seep through her skin making her shiver with cold dread. She would never....she could never...this hurts more than anything she’s ever experienced; ever. She’d worried so much about getting him back, it never occurred to her exactly how hard this would be. He’d survived attack after attack in Slabside and a full-blown prison riot with Diaz. He was black and blue from head to toe, inside and out. He was broken; and so is she.

She’d know for years that touching him in the throw of night terrors was the single stupidest and dangerous move she could make. He’d been very insistent the very first night they’d shared a bed to sleep, that he’d hurt Moira one night when he’d first returned from the island when she’d tried to wake him from a nightmare and he never wanted it to happen again.

But, honestly, she’d simply forgotten. She’d been so alone for months, sleeping on his side of the bed, wishing he was there beside her. Her was her last thought at night and her first thought in the morning for months. And when he’d woken her with his murmuring and restlessness, she hadn’t thought twice about reaching out to him.

“It was an accident Oliver,” she croaks through tears, the doorway and a bedroom of distance nearly as wide as an ocean between them. “I know you didn’t mean to...I touched you, I startled you when I heard you…I am okay. You didn’t mean to…Will and I are not leaving, we’re not Oliver, I promise.”

It’s a miracle that this is the only time, after all the nights they’ve slept together, that this has happened. That he’s hurt her in the throes of a nightmare; but right now they are so misaligned. It takes long minutes for either of them to move, both completely shook, and even then it’s at her request after she returns to the bedroom on shaky legs, a hand cautiously at her throbbing throat.

“I think you need a cold shower,” she tells him croakily from the doorway like he didn’t just have his hands around her neck crushing her windpipe mere minutes ago. “It always helps with the nightmare right?”

Oliver nods numbly. It does. But no amount of water can wash his terror clean.

He spends so long under the stream of cold water his toes go numb, his skin tinged with pale blue in the harsh light of the bathroom mirror.

But when he returns to their bedroom, her pillow and the comforter are gone, leaving his own and the flat sheet. It’s another sucker-punch to the gut.

“We just need to ease back into this,” she tells him as she fluffs the cushions on the sofa for herself. “We’ve never been good sleepers. Not after...everything.”

Everything covers all manner of sins and trauma in their lives. And now it covers this, the night he nearly killed her with his bare hands.

“Are you okay? Can I take a look?” Oliver asks guiltily, not stepping into the living room until he has some sort of signal from her that it’s okay to do so. That she’s not completely terrified by the monster that she vowed to share her life with.

This lack of spark between them is so damning, so cold and frustratingly terrifying like the puzzle pieces have misshapen and they can’t get them to fit no matter how much they force them.

Felicity gives him a small nod and Oliver slowly moves towards her, giving her all option to change her mind. But she doesn’t, and as he brushes his fingertips against her wet cheek she shuddered a little, but it’s not with desire. It’s with nostalgia. It’s with sorrow. It’s with sadness. She’d missed him so much, wanted him back so badly, and here he is. And it’s a complete fucking mess.

‘I am okay,” she tells him as he goes to draw away, her hand pressing his own to her cheek more firmly. She shows him her neck by lifting her chin towards the ceiling and left and right, and there are small marks littering each side, obviously fingerprints when standing close.

_**[We live and die by pretty lies  
**_ _**You know it, oh, we both know it…]** _

“You don’t have to lie to me,” he tells her, and his voice is soft, defeated, full of despair.

“I am okay,” she tells him softly. “This is nothing.”

Oliver’s jaw tightens and he drops his hand from her cheek. Her words hit home a little too soberly. She’s right, he’d seen her worse recently; right after Diaz attacked her.

“Compared to Diaz you mean.”

The compassion fades from Felicity’s face, and she steps away.

“Don’t…” she warns. “That’s not fair…to you or me.”

“That’s what you meant though? Isn’t it?” Oliver asks. “I didn’t hurt you as much as Diaz did when he…” his voice falters, “…when he attacked you? When he tried to kill you? Felicity, do you know how fucked up that this? How fucking awful that makes me-“

Felicity steps towards him fiercely. She’s not going to hear this out quietly. She just won’t.

“Of course I know Oliver! But I am trying to make you feel better! Because you are hanging so damn loosely right now, I am afraid I am going to lose what’s left of you to love.” Her eyes go wide when she realises what she’s just said. But it’s too late, and the hurt flashes across Oliver’s face. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean that,” she says stepping towards him again desperately. She reaches up to cup his face, but he moves away from it and gently pushes her hands away.

“You did. And you’re right,” he tells her sadly.

Felicity blows out of breath and frowns. “Don’t. Please don’t do the “wounded animal thing”. I can’t, I can’t handle it. Will looks just like you, and it’s the same look he’s had on his face since you went to jail. The same one when I sent him away to school for his safety. It hurts Oliver. This is not how I imagined our first night together.”

Truth be told, it’s not how he imagined their first night together either.

“Why is this so hard?” He finds himself saying before he realises and it is definitely the worst thing to say. He knows why. They both do, and she doesn’t sidestep the question at all.

“Because of you Oliver!” She says earnestly. “Because of you. You pleaded that I marry you. That our lives would be different. That we were a partnership. And I believed you. I believed you when you said that our family was a priority. I know you think going to jail was the best way to protect us, but it ruined us, Oliver. It ruined me and William. You left us. And we had to fight to survive without you, without our “friends”. This is hard because you keep fucking this up, and I just have to hold myself together and live in your decisions. Well, this time it wasn’t that easy…”

“I’m sorry…” he whispers.

“Stop apologising!” She yells back fiercely. “You can’t keep making the same mistakes over and over again Oliver and thinking that an apology is always going to fix things.”

“Felicity, I know-“

Felicity turns away from him. “Go to bed Oliver,” she tells him sadly.

_**[We'll leave each other cold as ice  
**_ _**And high and dry, the desert wind  
** _ _**Is blowin', is blowin'  
** _ _**Remember what you said to me?  
** _ _**We were drunk in love in Tennessee  
** _ _**And I hold it, we both know it  
** _ _**Mmm, nothing, nothing, nothing gon' save us now  
** _ __**Nothing, nothing, nothing gon' save us now]**

 He waits an hour, a cold worrisome hour as he frets that when he finally moves he’s going to find their apartment empty of her, but he waits until he hopes she’s asleep before he drags his pillow and sheet into the lounge room and makes a bed on the floor beside her on the dislodged cushions, plush rug and hard floor. It feels ridiculous, but he’s slept so long without her by his side, he can’t not sleep on the floor beside her even after their fight.


	2. Two (Post 7x07)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after Oliver's return from Slabside, life starts to return to normal...sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the incredible support for the last chapter! It blew me away! I love hearing your thought so please keep them coming!
> 
> I thought this was going to be three chapters; I lied. I can't help myself. It is too satisfying playing fix-it for even the most obscure plot points (as you'll see in this chapter). I think we'll end up with at least one extra chapter, maybe two. I'm hoping to have a chapter for you every week, so when Arrow returns we might have more awful writing to play with, but rest assured, this story will only cover the time between Oliver getting out of prison, Elseworlds and Christmas. It won't look at anything after midseason break. I need to cut myself off somewhere and I have the ending written already so I just need to get us there!
> 
> Always unbeta'd so mistakes are always mine (and plentiful, sorry).

 

** Two. **

**[This world can hurt you**  
**It cuts you deep and leaves a scar**  
**Things fall apart, but nothing breaks like a heart...]**

Felicity wakes early the next morning forcing her eyes open in alarm with a sharp intake of breath; but she suddenly remembers where she is, why she's on the sofa, how sore her throat feels, and it all comes rushing back.

She whimpers at the horrible start her and Oliver made yesterday and closes her eyes as she rolls over to bury her face into her pillow again. While he'd been in the shower she'd stolen his pillow, and maybe she was imagining it, but even in that short space of time, it already smelt like him again (and the sandalwood shower gel he'd showered with yesterday). It was one of her favourite scents in the world. And getting to smell it again, knowing it was on his skin and he was close, and not her own because she'd continue to buy it and wash in it while he was gone, was a ray of sunshine in the thunderstorm they found themselves in.

Oh, Oliver…her heart aches.

She'd torn shreds off him, an already broken man, and for the most part, he'd just endured it. He was exhausted and fraught and very much barely holding himself together and the nightmares…oh, she can only imagine the things he's been through over the past few months. It'll take them weeks to get to the bottom of it, to process all of it and get to a place where he'll share it with her.

And frankly, she's still a mess from what she went through too. Her abandonment issues, left over from her childhood and completely exacerbated by her stupidly heroic self-sabotaging husband and largely unsupportive best friend (John) have been in full vivid torturous colour at the front of her mind for months, but she'd largely been able to direct it towards focusing on getting Oliver out of prison, and Diaz out of their lives.

Now Diaz is behind bars, and Oliver is free and here and in their home again with her. And all she's been able to do is channel that rage she felt for the long lonely months without him living in the deal he made with the FBI (and John) without her, directly towards him. They have the rest of their lives to muddle through everything and work out the myriad of issues and cracks his choices keep making in their relationship and future together, so why did she have to throw almost everything at him the moment she got him home? The moment he came back to her? Because she was mad and hurt, and these were all the things they needed to talk about before it was too late to have the honest and frank conversations they needed to have. Once they started making concessions, where did they draw the line?

She presses her fingertips to her throat, feeling for any residual pain and blows out a breath of air that felt like it had been trapped in her lungs since the moment they walked him away from her in handcuffs. Having him grab her by the throat last night had been absolutely terrifying. She'd tried her best to claw at him to get him to let go, to scream and sob to wake him up, but the look of complete horror on his face, the way he'd crumpled when he'd realised what he'd done and the pleas he'd made for her to not leave him, to not take Will, oh that had been gut-wrenching…

Felicity's eyes open again and miles too slow for her own good if she's being frank, she realises she isn't the only one who'd slept in the living room. She leans her head over the side of her pillow and peaks a look at Oliver asleep beside her on the cold hard floor. The sheet is pulled up around him and he's curled in on himself, in a foetal position, his head having slipped precariously off the edge of his pillow and onto the plush mat below. After everything, he didn't let her sleep alone.

"Damn it, Oliver," she whispers to herself, but her voice is a little rougher and hoarse than usual. She swallows the words painfully. This is why she loves him.

She wants to curl up beside him, trace all of his new scars and bruises with her fingertips. She wants to hold his face in her hand and kiss him deeply, passionately, until she feels that love deep down into her toes in that way only he can make her feel. She misses him. And he's here and all they've done is pick and prod at the painful wounds they've caused each other. They can't get back the last few months apart. They can't take back his decision to turn himself in. They can't undo any of it…but they can get better at trying to accept it all for what it is - something for them to work through, not give up on.

John had told her she needed to move forward, and to some extent he was right; she's just going to do it with Oliver, not without him. No matter how hard and raw it feels right now.

"Oliver," she calls softly, not daring to touch him again while he's asleep. "Oliver, are you awake?"

"Kind of," he murmurs, wincing as he rolls over onto his back his head finding the pillow again, eyes still tightly closed. His back is stiff as hell, his right hip feels numb from the hard floor and his body just aches…

To his surprise, Felicity doesn't remain on the sofa above him but wriggles in under the sheet beside him. His breath catches as she crawls into the crook of his arm, her head on his shoulder and hand on his chests her messy pillow hair sneaking up his nose like it always does.

"This okay?" She asks softly, because he still hasn't opened his eyes, and she's pretty sure he'd barely even breathing and maybe she's pushed too hard again, spooked him like she was worried about in the car yesterday…

"Yeah," he tells her, choking back the lump in his throat as he finally opens his eyes and looks down his long lashes at her.

God her memory of those crystalline blue eyes looking at her like that, like she's his whole world, just don't do him justice. And for the first time since she'd kissed him at the gates of Slabside, he actually looks back at her with hope. His eyes are still full of pain too, but it's a different kind of pain right now, pain that he'd missed months of this time together.

"It's more than okay…" he tells her and his voice catches a little, betraying him completely, as the arm underneath her wraps around her side, his large palm settling on her lower back.

"Hey," she soothes, cupping his face gently as he turns his body towards her, wrapping his other arm around her middle, pulling her closer. He looks at her like he's worried she's going to disappear if he doesn't hold on tight enough.

"God," he breathes, burying his face into her bruised neck as gently as he can, and she feels him start to relax in her embrace; finally relax and let go of the fear and tension he'd been holding to, clinging to like a lifeline. His body goes slack against hers and his weight is so heavy but so welcome. She presses her fingertips into the knots of his shoulders before running them up the back of his neck, and into his short hair, cradling his head against her.

"I don't deserve you," he whispers, his lips gently tracing the bruises he'd left in the middle of the night with soft kisses, and she realises that he's telling himself more than he's telling her that. "I don't deserve you at all-" And that's possibly worse because their relationship isn't based on deserving the other person; it's about wanting them. And despite her better judgement sometimes and all of the hurt between them, she wants him. Really wants him. Wants him for the rest of her life.

She realises vividly, his body pressed to hers that in the mess of yesterday, they skipped one big step in their reunion. And it's messy and maybe it's completely the wrong step, but they both need this right now. It's how they've always reconnected when the words were hard - with sex.

"Take your clothes off," she whispers to him, her hands pushing up under the t-shirt he'd worn to bed with his boxers, and running it up his spine. She traces the shape of his spine and dances her fingers across the many scars she knows by heart. She could trace them in the dark, but as her fingertips skate against his skin, she maps new ones, and her heart aches a little. He'd seen more hurt in Slabside than she knew.

He shivers against her touch and she smiles up at him as he presses a soft kiss to her collarbone and lifts his head to look at her. His eyes search hers carefully, before he asks, "Are you sure?"

"Am I sure I want to have sex with my husband who I haven't had sex with for seven very long months?" She teases croakily. "Yes. I've missed you..."

Oliver's eyes slam closed and his breath hitches. And oh no, maybe she completely misread-

"Oliver, I know things are largely unresolved with us right now but-"

He silences her quickly, slanting his mouth over hers. The kiss starts off tender, lips moving against closed lips until he groans and she catches him off guard, sliding her tongue into his mouth.

"Fuck yes," he groans again, opening his eyes to stare right at her, pulling her closer and covering her body with his. He moves into the cradle of her hips, blanketing her body with his as they continue to devour each other.

-yeah, she completely misread it all right.

**[We live and die by pretty lies**  
**You know it, oh, we both know it...]**

They make love twice, right there on the living room floor.

The first time is hot and heavy, it's been a long time for both of them, and Oliver is far from surprised when Felicity pushes him back into the pillow, strips off their clothing and straddles him. It's fast and earth-shattering, both of them coming apart in a short space of time.

The second time is slower, longer and more cherished. It's sweeter. They take their time to satisfy each other, lips tracing skin as they murmur all of the things they love about the other into their scars. It's not as rough or frantic, but the orgasm is just as wonderful and it's so consuming as he rocks into her, his body blanketing hers, her legs wrapped around his waist.

They lie together after, wrapped up in each other's arms, heads sharing the same pillow. They are silent for ages, the long minutes provoking smiles and soft lazy kisses between them until their reality bleeds in again.

"Do you want to talk about Slabside?" Felicity ventures with a soft whisper but Oliver shakes his head.

"Not yet. I mean I can't…I don't know how to explain it."

Felicity strokes his cheek tenderly. "I'll be here to listen when you want to try."

Oliver nods. He blows out a breath; it's not like she's really forcing him, he doesn't have to say anything, but now he wants to. She's opened the lines of communication and he wants to contribute. Because he's usually so bad at talking things through; he jumps first, rationalises later, and that's what got them into the whole mess in the first place.

"I wasn't prepared for how much I was hated in there," he admits solemnly.

He's silent for a long moment, and she leans forward to kiss the tears from his cheek softly. "Are you okay?"

 **[These silver bullet cigarettes**  
**This burning house, there's nothing left**  
**It's smoking, we both know it**  
**We got all night to fall in love**  
**But just like** that **we fall apart**  
**We're broken, we're broken...]**

I mean, really how can he? And maybe it's not fair of her to ask him, but she wants to know. She wants him to know she's worried about him and she'll keep asking if he is okay because she fears that if she doesn't, he doesn't think she'll want him to tell her if he's not. And she does. She's trying desperately to tear down that wall she'd built up because it doesn't do anything but make it worse to keep their emotions and worries walled in, separated and one-sided.

Oliver's hand skates up the back of her spine, his touch making her feel treasured. He needs to hold onto her more tightly because the more he thinks about Slabside, the less he feels like his world is in his control.

"I don't know," he admits earnestly. "I don't know who I am anymore, Felicity. I don't know what I am."

"Oliver, You're my husband. You're Will's father. You're the Green Arrow. You're a hero. And you're hurting. You don't have to have all the answers right now. And you don't have to find them by yourself. I will help you."

Oliver nods and closes the distance between them leaning closer for a kiss. She winds her arm around his neck and he moves into the cradle of her hips again, his mouth moving deliciously against hers until her stomach grumbles, betraying her completely.

"Was that your stomach?" He smiles, pulling back at the sound and Felicity shrugs.

"Yes. It's desperate for your amazing pancakes. In case you've forgotten, morning sex is always followed by pancakes. It's the rule."

"Oh, I haven't forgotten, It's my rule remember?" he smiles at her less than subtle hint. "Felicity, do you want me to make you breakfast?"

She nods enthusiastically. "Yes please," she tells him before reaching for their abandoned clothes.

*

Oliver finds his ability to make pancakes is burnt into muscle memory.

Their kitchen is roughly the same layout and format as their old apartment and all of their new things can be found in the same cupboards and spaces.

He's not surprised to find the exact ingredients, including fresh blueberries, maple syrup and vanilla ice cream in the cupboards and freezer, and as he cooks he finds himself wistfully remembers her pottering around the aisles at Whole Foods behind him scoffing at all the organic produce and products he would put in their trolley, and making games with Will to find the junkiest food imaginable to add to their movie/game night menu. He smiles to himself at the frequency of which Will and Felicity would lead the way back to the car sharing a packet of their junk food loot and cheering over their ability to wear him down, while he'd follow diligently behind with a trolley full of green bags stuffed with groceries...

"That is nowhere near enough ice-cream," she teases with a wink as he places the stack of blueberry pancakes down in front of her at the kitchen table where she'd been fussing with her tablet while he cooked, and a large mug of fresh, creamy coffee.

He rolls his eyes, heading briefly back to the kitchen bench for his own coffee.

Felicity grins and reaches for her cutlery. But, her brow knots when she realises he doesn't have a plate for himself, just a large mug half filled with black coffee.

"You're not having any? Oliver, you must be famished..."

He smiles but shakes his head as he sips at his coffee. "Coffee's fine," he tells her. "Besides, I don't have much of an appetite."

"Do we need to go for round three?" She teases, cutting through the perfectly cooked batter, loading her fork with pancake and then lifting it to her lips sultrily. She eases the fork into her mouth and moans, making them both chuckle.

"Stop teasing and eat your pancakes," he playfully admonishes.

She washes down her mouthful with a sip of her coffee.

"What do you feel like doing with the first day of the rest of your life? The Slabside riot is all over the news, so maybe laying low for a couple of days until it calms down would be best? The last thing you need right now is more paparazzi in your very handsome but bruised and battered face. We should look through your closet and things too, make sure you have everything you need..."

Looking through a closet of clothing and things from a previous life, his previous life sounds overwhelming and plainly awful if he's being honest. He'd like to go to the Bunker and start the salvage efforts, but it is across town and leaving the apartment in the midst of the news storm is the second worst way he could spend today.

"I'd like to call William," he decides aloud.

Felicity grins, she'd be hoping that would be the case. She'd texted their son last night and told him Oliver was home, and that they'd call him when he was settled. She knew William was desperate to see and talk to his father.

"He'd love that," Felicity says. "But, that reminds me."

Felicity gets up from her chair and walks to the small console table with a drawer over near the front door. She pulls a phone from the drawer and sashays back towards him, handing him the brand new device as she sits down again beside him.

"New phone, new number, but all of your contacts are there just in case. I backed up your photos and things to the cloud and encrypted it all again; it's practically military grade so good luck hackers. Your old phone didn't like the new encryption or jailbreak I did on it so I rebuilt the hardware based on the new PT ten model they launched last month and added the high-security video chat app I'd programmed onto William's phone before he left. This phone has two modes, Arrow mode and normal Oliver mode. Figured it might be time now your secret identity is out that we eliminate the need for an Arrow phone; especially as the FBI have our old one. You can run your whole life from just this one now."

"Thank you," he tells her a little breathlessly because he doesn't really know what the future holds for his dual identity. He touches the screen and smiles when he finds that she's set the lock screen as a picture of the three of them they had taken a few weeks before he'd gone to jail.

"And..." Felicity says, taking his left hand in hers, coaxing his hand flat and fingers outstretched towards her. She nudges the silver band onto his ring finger carefully twisting it comfortably in place.

"You wedding ring," she says gently before lifting his hand to her lips to kiss the spot where she'd just placed the ring.

And the last of the wall crumbles between them. She's been wearing her ring since yesterday but had made no move until now to replace his. This is a big step forward in their healing. Huge even. He leans forward, his hands gently cupping her cheeks as he kisses her softly.

"Felicity, I am going to try to be a better husband and father, I really am," he tells her and it makes her smile.

She nods, sniffling back tears before she pulls him into a tight hug, holding him close. "That's all I need Oliver."

"Are you sure you don't want any?" She asks breaking away to return to her breakfast after her tears have dried. "You must be hungry. When was the last time you ate? You didn't want anything on the plane, and you said no when we stopped at Big Belly on the way home from the airport yesterday..."

"I will have something later," he tells her trying to be convincing, but the truth is, he has almost no appetite. Every single meal for the past seven months has been hell, has come with some sort of power struggle or means for information or alliance amongst the other inmates. Meals for him have come to mean stress, strategy and calculated survival; it's not simply food anymore, and he can't just flick that switch off.

Making her breakfast and watching her eat this morning has given him back some normalcy, some sense of their old life and routine. But it hasn't fully cleared the lead from his stomach, the taste of Slabside and incarceration. The taste of flavourless prison food and the prospect of a life behind bars.

"Oliver, when was the last time you ate?"

Oliver frowns.

"Monday, maybe?"

Felicity gapes at him. "Oliver, that's three days ago..."

"Felicity, I'm not hungry." He says a little more forcefully and she relents, lifting his hand to her lips to kiss his wedding ring again before she resumes eating her meal.

Baby steps.

*  
The next hurdle they face is his first call to William.

Oliver is nervous and anxious to talk with William after so long and spends the majority of the day pacing around the apartment despite Felicity's assurances that this isn't like when William first came to live with him and Oliver had to deal with a hostile pre-teen who was terrified of him and angry. Now they are facing a devastated son who just wants to desperately know that his Dad is okay and if he can come home soon.

But, Oliver is too reluctant to believe her fully, even though he tells himself that if the situation was reversed, he'd be desperate and excited to talk to his own father despite everything. The good and the bad.

Oliver's worry has Felicity on edge. It's like being locked in a cage with an anxious animal and given her own anxiety isn't in great shape after Hope Springs, they make a stupidly anxiety-ridden pair. Once upon a time they just had to deal with Villian's of the week and trying to avoid acknowledging their feelings for each other. Now they have vows, and enemies, a son, a failing startup and a criminal record. Oliver was no longer just famous or Mayor Handsome; he was the infamous Green Arrow. He was lethal and a convicted criminal. He was also a hero, but the light and shade of it all made heads spin. Felicity was no longer a CEO; she was the Green Arrow's wife, his complicit accomplice, a tech genius with a crumbling empire, and she had to figure out how to keep everyone afloat…

Oh, shit...she's been so caught up..she'd forgotten she hadn't told him about-

Oliver's phone rings with William's video chat and Felicity panics.

"Don't answer it," she says quickly, but Oliver gives her a bewildered and confused look as his thumb hits accept.

"Dad!" William greets happily, waving at him excitedly on the other end of the video as it connects, and it makes Oliver beam.

"Hi Will," he says tearily, grinning from ear to ear as he realises how much Will's grown in such a short space of time. "It's so good to see you. I have missed you so much, buddy I can't even explain."

It would have been a hundred times better if they'd been able to have their reunion in person, but Will had gone through enough school disturbance this year that they'd decided he should stay in Boston at Cambridge Academy until Christmas break, which was only another couple of weeks away.

Will gives his own teary smile. "I've missed you too Dad; I am so relieved you are home. I wish I could be there. Felicity said you need some time to settle into the new place though before we can come home."

Oliver's brow knits. "We?"

"Oliver," Felicity says getting up from her spot at the table where she'd been working through the new security program for the loft trying to keep her mind occupied while Oliver paced. Oliver turns towards her and his face is still full of confusion. "I haven't told you everything-"

"Hey, Felicity!" Will starts brightly but he's promptly cut off...

"Hey, Ollie," Thea waves, dropping into view beside Will. She looks back at her brother a little sheepishly. Her hair is long, to her shoulders but her smile is easy even though they haven't spoken in long months.

"Speedy? What-? How-? I mean...?"

He hasn't spoken to Thea at all since his incarceration and he knows it's because she's so mad at him for what he did to Felicity and Will. And she's had her own shit going on with the League that admittedly had fallen a little off his radar as he'd tried to protect his family, friends and the city from Diaz's peril.

Thea crinkles her nose. "You can at least pretend to be happy to see me too, Ollie," she tells him and Oliver shakes his head in a ‘no-I-am, I-am-just-confused' way.

"I am happy to see you Speedy. I am just surprised is all. Aren't you meant to be in South America?"

"Turkey actually," she says with a shrug. "But Nyssa has things handled, and Roy and I were needed back here."

"Hey...guys," Roy says, stepping in on the other side of William and giving a small wave.

Roy might not always have the lightest of touches when it came to right and wrong things to say, but he was definitely perceptive and his apprehension at Thea's very obvious plan to rescue Felicity from her omission didn't sit well with him. He hated getting involved in Felicity and Oliver drama; sometimes their relationship was the very definition of insanity - doing the same things over and over again and expecting different results. Like lying to each other...

"Right, so the three of you are there in Boston?" Oliver surmises.

"Four actually," Thea says with a smile. "Donna's here too. But she's out running an errand before dinner."

"Which thankfully has absolutely nothing to do with cooking it," Roy adds and Will nods animatedly in confirmation.

"Donna is a horrible cook, worse thank Felicity," Will reveals, but he's not telling them anything they don't already know.

Having Felicity burn every meal she attempted was nothing compared to Donna Smoak.

"Hey!" Felicity chastises Will with a fake pout. "I kept us well fed for five months."

"I kept us well fed for five months," Will teases and Felicity concedes with a shrug looking to Oliver, praying some of this is working in softening the lines around his mouth where he's trying to keep himself civil and calm with a clenched jaw.

"He's right, he's a million times better chef than me."

"So, you are all in Boston, together?" Oliver asks again, and the smile fades a little from everyone's face.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you-" Felicity says, her hand on his shoulder but Oliver doesn't hear her out.

"How's school, Will?" Oliver asks, changing the subject and Roy and Thea share a look that he certainly doesn't miss behind Will's back.

"We'll leave you to talk to your Dad," Thea tells Will brightly before he can reply. "Look after yourself Ollie," Thea says. "We'll talk soon. Love you. You too Felicity."

"Love you too," Felicity replies, moving away also, retreating to her chair at the table, a down-beaten look on her face Oliver has to try to pointedly ignore.

"See ya, man," Roy tells him with a grimace before he moves out of shot.

"Schools good, great even," William confirms. "It is only three weeks until Winter break. Are you coming here to Boston or do you want me to fly home? If you and Felicity are heading up here, I'd really like to show you how awesome the campus is. It's incredible! The tech labs are soooo cool, and they do these awesome events with MIT once a month where they run these workshops, show us some new stuff they are working on and we do lots of experiments and stuff- last week it was this new VR app they are launching and it is seriously amazing; it makes the Oculus look like its from the 80s. It's really awesome."

"That sounds awesome bud, it really does. Tell me more about the school. What are the kids like?"

"The school is amazing and the teachers here are awesome. The kids are okay, but a lot of them know who I am now because of the news. The first few weeks I was here no one really cared, I was just the new kid, but because of the riot and stuff, everyone kind of knows now I am your son. It means I am getting a lot of strange looks and whispers from people."

William hated being in the limelight as the Mayor's son and he no doubt would feel even worse as the son of a convicted criminal.

"I'm looking forward to spending Christmas and Hanukkah with you though," William grins. "No one can cook quite like you Dad. I know we missed having Thanksgiving together, but could we have a Turkey do you think?"

"I think that's a great idea. We can't wait for you to get here either Will," Oliver admits. "I know this year has been insane, but we're going to have a good holiday season as a family, I promise Bud."

Will smiles and gives a slightly discrete sniffle, that has Oliver dropping into the cushions of the sofa sadly.

"I'm sorry, Will. I know that must be tough to go through, especially on your own…"

Technically he's not on his own, his Aunt and Uncle and Donna are here; but it's not the same. Felicity and Oliver's family have welcomed him into their lives with open arms, and hearts, but it's not the same as being with his Dad and Felicity.

"Listen, Will, I am sorry about everything; that you are so far away, that you have to have bodyguards...I am sorry that I put us in this mess, and I didn't tell or ask you and Felicity before I did what I did."

"I know Dad," Will says with a smile. "But did you tell Felicity that too?"

Oliver smiles. "Yes, I did."

Will gives him a knowing look and a raised eyebrow that has Oliver Queen Jr written all over him.

"And she is still mad at you, right?"

Oliver huffs a laugh, pointedly not looking at Felicity. "Kind of yeah. I mean, we're okay if that's what you mean…"

"Good," Will smiles, and Oliver feels elated. He notices the smile on Felicity's face.

"Good?"

"Yeah, good that you and Felicity are okay. I love Felicity."

"Me too."

"But, you do kind of deserve for her to still be mad at you Dad. You really ruined things for a while there."

Oliver nods. "I did. But I'm going to work hard to never put us in that position again."

Their conversation continues for a while longer, but eventually, real life intervenes and they have to hang up.

It's all over too soon and Oliver's chest begins to ache.

"Talk later Bud..." he manages to squeeze out before Will is waving goodbye at them.

"Love you guys," Will tells them brightly.

"Love you!" Felicity chimes back happily, sneaking into view over Oliver's shoulder to say goodbye and then the call is over.

Felicity pouts at the blank screen on the phone still held tightly in Oliver's hand.

"Is it wrong to be a little jealous at how much he is loving Cambridge? I wonder if this is what it will feel like when he goes off to college in a few years time."

Oh god, Oliver can't even...

Oliver's brow knits. "I think the kids are giving him some trouble about me. They've realised who I am...."

"I'm not worried," Felicity tells him with a smile touching his shoulder affectionately. "He's resilient, and he's very proud of who his father is. He won't let it get to him."

"I'm not worried about the other kids," Oliver says getting to his feet and turning to look at her. And he's not. Sure, Will's relatively safe with Thea and Roy, but they have their own targets on their backs. It's hard to reconcile; he's grateful for everything Felicity has done to try and protect him, get him out of the city and far away from Diaz with protection was smart...but, it still makes him feel uneasy.

"Oliver," Felicity grimaces. "I did my homework on the school. It's safe, trust me..."

"Because he has my sister - currently being targeted by rogue members of the League Of assassins and a man who on paper died four years ago and is currently a fugitive, following him around playing bodyguard?"

Felicity frowns. "I was going to tell you about Thea and Roy-"

"Felicity, I had a right to know he had a security detail." His voice is low, but it is full of accusations and she doesn't like it one bit.

Felicity crosses her arms angrily against her chest. She knows he's worried but she doesn't like his tone or insinuation after everything. It makes her scornful.

"You know what, no you didn't Oliver, because the moment you went to jail, I became William's primary legal guardian. So it was my decision to find someone to protect our son. Asking Thea and Roy was actually John's brilliant idea-"

Oliver scoffs. "John, the best friend you aren't talking to and don't trust anymore?"

And it is his tone that gets her, slices right through her like a hot knife through butter.

"Nine hours, Oliver. We got through nine whole hours without a fight-"

"I don't want to fight with you, I just want to understand," he fires back. "There must have been other options."

"I was scared, Oliver," Felicity admits. "I was terrified that I couldn't protect him or myself. When Diaz attacked me, William had to run and it was the most awful moment of my life. Simone and I went to MIT together, she was my roommate. She is head of Science and Tech at Cambridge Academy. I reached out to her and she helped me get him a place there and she was supportive of having Thea and Roy there to watch out for him. Will's safety was paramount and there is no one I trust more with William's safety apart from us than Thea and Roy. I feel good about him protecting Will. You know Will's trust is hard to earn after Sam, after everything you did-"

"Don't tell me what my son has gone through, Felicity," Oliver roars, and it surprises both of them.

There is dead air between them, both of them reeling...

"Our son, Oliver," Felicity corrects. "Don't you dare make me feel guilty for the choices I had to make to keep him safe. I was there every night when he cried himself to sleep because of the giant hole you ripped in his heart. I know I'm not Samantha. I am not trying to be. I was trying to replace the shape you left in his life, not her."

Oliver tries to step towards her, she's right, so right, he overstepped, but Felicity won't have any of it.

"Felicity-I didn't mean that. You know I didn't. And I love that you and William are close. You're right; I just...  
I am his Dad, you know? I should be protecting him."

Felicity sighs heavily and her shoulders drop. She's exhausted and this hurts.

"Yes Oliver, you should have been. But who's fault is that?"

Oliver has no response. She's right, and it's damming. And to add salt to the wounds, Felicity walks away, closing the bedroom door behind her with a heavy slam.

**[We'll leave each other cold as ice**  
**And high and dry, the desert wind**  
**Is blowin', is blowin'**  
**Remember what you said to me?**  
**We were drunk in love in Tennessee**  
**And I hold it, we both know it**  
**Mmm, nothing, nothing, nothing gon' save us now...]**

*

A couple of days later Oliver finally makes it to John and Lyla's to collect the boxes Felicity had left with them before moving to Hope Springs with William.

Well, this is the last one," John says with a smile lowering the sixth brown box to the floor near the front door where the others were stacked.

"Thank you," Oliver says earnestly, looking at the haphazard labels on the side. He doesn't know what the boxes contain, but he can't help eying them like ticking bombs waiting to go off an explode more hurt into his and Felicity's already aching relationship. Things are better from a couple of days ago, but they've fallen into a new routine of arguing, having sex, a period of brief enjoyment again of each others company before another emotional bomb drops. And these boxes feel like a whole minefield of emotional bombs waiting to fuck up whatever peace they'd managed to salvage before she'd set off to the loft this morning to do some programming work on upgrading the security system there.

"Coffee?" John ventures, heading for the kitchen. "Or something a little stronger? I have Vodka in the freezer..."

Oliver gives him a dry smile. "I don't think there is enough Vodka in the world to forget the last time we talked properly there was a glass wall and life imprisonment between us."

John chuckles and nods. "You're probably right. We'll stick with the good stuff then," he says reaching for two coffee mugs and flicking on the switch of the kettle.

As John makes coffee Oliver watches four-year-old JJ in the living room his eyes glued to an episode of Paw Patrol. He's sitting on the rug into the front of the tv, a plethora of toys around him, happily watching and laughing at the story as it unfolds on screen. He's godson has grown so big since Oliver saw him last, and it reminds him that the last time Oliver did something this monumentally stupid like join the League of Assassins, how supportive John and Felicity has been of each other. Felicity would come to the Diggle's for dinner and would spend those nights playing with baby JJ. Oliver wonders when the last time was that Felicity saw her godson admit the chaos of the last seven to eight months.

"Oliver," John asks stirring him from his reverie as he places the mug of coffee down on the table in front of him. "Are you going to ask me about Felicity or what, man?"

Oliver huffs a laugh at the knowing look on John's face.

"I was working my way up to it," he admits, reaching for the mug. "How did you know?"

John shrugs, his eyes briefly roaming the living room to check on JJ for a moment before turning back to his friend.

"Because you're you. And normally you are about as subtle as a sledgehammer. I know you are waiting for the right time to ask about our fall out…just ask."

Oliver nods as he takes a sip of his coffee. "John, what happened with Felicity? She told me her version, I just want to hear yours."

John sighs, leaning his elbows heavily on the table.

"I'm not proud of myself man, but it is what it is. Of course, I watched over her, I had people round the clock monitoring her in Hope Springs while you were gone. I wanted to be there myself, but Lyla's been in and out of the country for months on ARGUS business and I needed to be here for JJ.

Felicity was so mad and hurt when we moved her to Hope Springs, she fought us every step of the way. Eventually, I gave up. She was hurting and I couldn't help her. She hated that you banned her from visiting you for her safety, but I was still going to see you. And after the first couple of visits I would check in with her but she told me to stop, that she didn't want to know. It hurt too much that she couldn't see you.

And then, she got more and more obsessive over Diaz and I couldn't reason with her. She was meant to lay low, stay in the cover story we'd developed, but I knew she was investigating him. Initially, she asked Curtis to help her but he didn't like it. He was terrified that the FBI was going to re-neg on their deal if they found him snooping around in their systems and send him to prison too, so he came to ARGUS.

We had our nose to the grindstone in the midst of an operation when Diaz attacked her. He killed two of my agents that were watching her. She didn't know they were ARGUS, but Diaz did. He'd had a mole at ARGUS the whole time.

We got there just in the nick of time before he killed her. William had run, had escaped Diaz and gone to the safe house and hit the panic button. That boy of yours is smart, resilient and resourceful.

After she came to see you, told you she was going to fight, she asked me to help her find Diaz once and for all. She was going to go to Watson and get her to hold up the deal you made with her. But I couldn't risk it. Diaz has someone on the inside at ARGUS watching us move against him and the only way I could protect her, protect both of them, was to shut down what we were doing on our end and hope that without that leak alerting him to our movements, they'd finally succeeded.

Rene said he'd help her, and he was trying to get Dinah in on it, but she was reluctant too with the shape the SCPD was in. I had to distance myself.

What I said to her about moving on without you, I wish I could tell you I didn't mean it. But I was worried about her. And you. She wasn't herself. She was being reckless and obsessive and it scared the hell out of me. If she couldn't get Diaz, I was worried she'd die trying and the guilt would kill both of us."

Oliver blows out a breath. Damn it. He wishes he didn't, but part of him actually understood why he did what he did. Which, ironically in the current light probably mean that John's motives were questionable, just like Oliver's own actions. But John was right, something inside Felicity changed since he'd been away. He was still trying to put his finger on it, but there was a small niggle at the back of his mind that something was up. That she wasn't as well adjusted to her convinced criminal husband coming home from prison that she pretended to be.

"Are you mad?" John asks and Oliver frowns.

"Oh, I'm mad," Oliver admits, "about as mad as you were when I kidnapped Lyla. And left JJ in his crib."

John's mouth twitches like he's fighting back the hint of a smile. Did Oliver just make a morbid joke? That wasn't really his style.

"I guess what I am saying is that I'm mad you weren't there for her when you said you would be. But I'd be a hypocrite if I was going to hold it against you."

John breathes a sigh of relief. "You can't hate me any more than I hate myself over it, Oliver," he admits earnest. "I don't even know where to begin to get Felicity to forgive me."

"You and me both," Oliver says sipping at his coffee. "If it makes you feel any better, know that she's directing a lot of her angry attention my way."

"Things still a bit rough between you two?"

"It ebbs and flows," Oliver admits. "We're both not in a great place right now. She's hurting because of what I did, and I'm..."

Oliver searches for the words.

"Readjusting?" John supplies.

Oliver sighs. "I was going to say a mess, but that works."

"Oliver, man, It's like coming home from war," John tells him. "You've been through a crucible, you've seen a shitload of nasty stuff and it's taking it's a toll on you mentally and physically. You've got to learn how to live your same life again now that your whole world has changed. What you're going through, Oliver, it is completely normal. You've been there before. This is no different to when you first came home and you were aching with the pain of the five years away; but this time around you already have the love of your life, the light of your life with you. You've just got to figure out how to harness everything you've been through and make it work for you and who you are now."

Oliver plays with the handle of his mug, John's words sinking in. "You ever think you missed your calling as a counsellor?" Oliver toys and John grins.

"Well, I've had nearly seven years of practice with you as my patient."

Oliver chuckles before his humour turns to a grimace. "We both hurt her, John. She's so loyal to us and we both hurt her badly."

John nods soberly. "We did. But you're going to get through this Oliver. You'll find a way back to each other. Your both too stubborn to stop loving each other, really."

Oliver smiles, thankful for the sage advice. He digs into his pocket for the invite that had arrived by courier today.

"They are throwing an event thing for me at City Hall," He explains feebly handing John the invite.

"An event thing?" John teases. "And to think you were once deemed to be an eloquent Mayor." John reads the invite, his eyebrows rising in surprise. "The Star City Initiative for Inmate Rights Gala Fundraiser honouring Oliver Queen. Wow, that is a mouthful. But," John gives Oliver a supportive look, "no less deserved. This is a wonderful man, really. And it's probably the least they could go, given they let a psychopath torture you."

Oliver can't help but smile at his friend's ribbing.

"Wasn't my first time," Oliver notes and John frowns.

"That is true."

"I'd like you to come, you and Lyla. And the rest of the…um…well Curtis, Rene and Dinah."

John nods. "We'll be there. But, you could invite the others yourself?" John suggests.

Oliver smiles. "You and I are on good terms, but I am not quite there yet with the others."

John nods with understanding. "Noted. I'll put it in the group chat," he says, snapping a photo of the invite.

"You're kidding right?" Oliver asks. "Is there really a post-Team Arrow group chat?"

"Maybe," John teases. "And maybe it existed back when Team Arrow did too."

Oliver sighs. "That doesn't surprise me at all."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Get ready, next chapter I tackle 7x08. (Wish me well!). But now I have to torture myself by rewatching them again. Ughhhhhh.


	3. Three (7x08)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Thank you thank you thank you for the incredible support. More angsty goodness this chapter, with some fluff, because sometimes things need to get worse before they get better right? Just a reminder, this is canon compliant until the end of the crossovers, so anything that happens here that is similar to post-Elseworlds is because I think it should have happened sooner and differently. I hope that makes sense.

  
**Three (7x08)**

  
**_[This world can hurt you_ **   
**_It cuts you deep and leaves a scar_ **   
**_Things fall apart, but nothing breaks like a heart...]_ **

Felicity can’t get that damn song out of her head. It’s been taunting her for days, the lyrics rolling round and round in her mind. It speaks to her on so many levels…but mostly it just hurts…so, she’d just decided to embrace it, hit repeat on Spotify and turn it up loud in her wireless headphone as she goes to town working out her frustration on the boxing bag in front of her.

**_[I heard you on the phone last night_ **   
**_We live and die by pretty lies_ **   
**_You know it, oh, we both know it_ **   
**_These silver bullet cigarettes_ **   
**_This burning house, there's nothing left_ **   
**_It's smoking, we both know it_ **   
**_We got all night to fall in love_ **   
**_But just like that, we fall apart_ **   
**_We're broken, we're broken_ **   
**_Mmm, well nothing, nothing, nothing gon' save us now…]_ **

Her fists slam against the leather to the rhythm and it’s both satisfying and ludicrous at the same time. It’s a pop song, a damn pop song, and it speaks to everything so fracking perfectly it was maddening. She starts the combo again, resetting her feet and pounding out the choreography as it filters through her mind in that even paced, methodical way Oliver (and admittedly John) had taught her. It’s those memories training together with Oliver in the foundry and bunker that help her push through the pain, both the aching in her muscles and the emotional weight that’s been in her chest for days. She’s breathless and sweaty and her contacts are making her eyes feel even drier and tighter after the restless sleep she’d had last night beside Oliver, his own tossing and turning after a disagreement with William who wanted to just ditch school in Boston and come home kept both of them awake for long stretches as they deliberated the best way to parent this situation together.

_**[Well, there's broken** **silence** _   
_**By thunder crashing in the dark (crash in the dark)** _   
_**And this broken record** _   
_**Spin endless circles in the bar (spin 'round in the bar)** _   
_**This world can hurt you** _   
_**It cuts you deep and leaves a scar** _   
_**Things fall apart, but nothing breaks like a heart…]** _

Ugh, she’s never really been a person who exercises out of _need_ , except for the physical therapy she’d required to initially get her legs working again, and the yoga and pilates she’s being squeezing into her chaotic life since to keep them functioning. But here she is, flexing that emotional need to keep her damn shit together and trying to get enough headspace to figure out how to explain to her husband that while he was back and by her side, she couldn’t just turn off the little switch in her head that worried endlessly for her family’s safety. Not after everything. But also because explaining it came with a whole conversation around safety, and how damn helpless and terrified she felt on a daily basis after Diaz.

_**[We'll leave each other cold as ice** _   
_**And high and dry, the desert wind** _   
_**Is blowin', is blowin'** _   
_**Remember what you said to me?** _   
_**We were drunk in love in Tennessee** _   
_**And I hold it, we both know it** _   
_**Mmm, nothing, nothing, nothing gon' save us now** _   
_**Nothing, nothing, nothing gon' save us now…]** _

Which is why she was here, working out her frustrations the best way Oliver had taught her…hitting things. It wasn’t her normal go to, but it sure made her feel better right now. This was her first visit to the boxing gym since Oliver had been home, and she’d only gone because they'd decided the day before that they need to start cementing some sort of routine and normality in their lives that had largely been very abnormal since they’d met. She just hadn’t figured out which routine she wanted to cling to because she was kind of sorting through a number of different variations of her self right now...

She'd wanted him to join her, hoping that a chance to train might help him reestablish his own routine and help blow off some steam because he was growing increasingly stir crazy in the apartment but was also very hesitant to leave it. The reality was though that his sleep pattern was still awful, and he'd been finally sleeping so soundly this morning that she hadn't had the heart to wake him.

_**[This world can hurt you** _   
_**It cuts you deep and leaves a scar** _   
_**Things fall apart, but nothing breaks like a heart** _   
_**Mhmm, but nothing breaks like a heart** _   
_**But nothing breaks like a heart** _   
_**Mhmm, but nothing breaks like a heart…]** _

Felicity wipes the sweat from her brow and continues on through the last verse of the song, a loud dejected and frustrated groan escaping through her gritted teeth as she powers on. The song ends and Felicity shakes off her gloves and pulls the wireless headphones out of her ears before grasping for her water bottle and towel from the nearby bench. She gulps down as much as she can, stretching out her exhausted and heavy arms, but nearly jumps out of her skin when Rene, who had been working with his 10 am self-defence class over by the long row of class bags appears at her side, a look on his face that tells her all the good she did pounding the emotions out of her fists and into the punching bag are about to be completely undone.

“So, John is here,” Rene tells her, his voice low and calm, his hands on hips. “To see you.”

Felicity frowns, wiping her sweaty forehead and brow on the back of her wrist. “ _What_?” She blinks, thinking for a moment she totally misheard him, until John steps into view over Rene’s shoulder, arms folded against the leather chest of his brown jacket. On a normal day, he looks like the type of guy who’d be very comfortable in a gym (I mean, come on), but today is not that day. Felicity narrows her eyes at Rene.

”How did he know I was here?” She asks, dropping both the volume and tone of her voice. “My phone is Felicity grade encrypted…it’s more secure than the Pentagon…there is no way he couldn’t have traced me with it….”

Rene makes a face, at least having the decency to look a little worriedly back at her. “Eh, we probably need to talk about that, because is that _really_ necessary? I mean, _more_ secure than the Pentagon…? But ah, actually, he asked me and I told him.”

Felicity cocks her head at Rene. “Seriously?”

Rene shrugs, nonplussed. “Seriously. Don’t you think it’s time you two hashed this out? I mean, if we’re going to get the team back together…”

Felicity frowns. “Oliver literally just got home from prison. It’s been five days Rene. I think it’s a bit early to pitch getting the team back together…”

”I might have told him that you were hitting the bag pretty hard on the reg here at the gym since Diaz attacked you...you know, _upskilling_ …and that he should drop by if he wanted to talk to you.”

Felicity rolls her eyes at Rene. “Geeze, it’s like Thea left you a manual on meddling…”

Rene grins. “Top drawer of her desk. It was a compelling read,” he teases, earning himself a wild look from Felicity that says while his reply was witty, she didn’t appreciate him getting in the middle of this. “Okay, so I made a bad call on getting involved, but I was trying to do a nice thing, and he’s here now so…”

Felicity groans. “Damn it,” she mutters. “Fine.”

Felicity moves past Rene, and she hears Rene’s audible sigh of relief that he’s off the hook before he retreats back to his class, sending some praise and pointers back to his students who are running through their routine at the bags.

Felicity walks right up to John, and honestly, she’s pretty damn proud that the man who's taller and more man mountain than her husband seems to shrink a little under her glare.

“Hi,” she says hotly looking up at him with a tone that’s more polite than friendly. “What's up?”

“Hey Felicity,” John says with a smile, “That was great form...excellent footwork-“

Felicity’s brow knots. She’s not up for small talk. Not with him. Her hands land on her hips.

“Did you come all the way down here to comment on my footwork?” It’s hard not to scoff.

John laughs nervously, a little awkwardly like he’s fumbling this terribly. They’d been able to get along enough to go to Slabside and bring Oliver home - like they drew a truce on the misunderstanding between them because they were united by one goal - but that had largely fallen away the moment Oliver walked out those gates. She’d been pretty transparent in her disappointment in him and today was no different.

“No,” he says kindly. “You weren't answering my texts or calls, so I came to see how Oliver is doing? How things are going since he got home...?”

What’s left of Felicity’s patience (like the tiny minuscule amount) sours. She’s so done. He didn’t start with a _‘Hi, how are you, Felicity?’_ He started right where it hurt. Overlooking her for Oliver. Again. Repeatedly. Sure, the three of them have had their differences over the years, but it was usually Oliver and John who were shirty with each other. Her being the one in the two vs. one was a rarity, and kind of more hurtful.

”You’ve got the be kidding me?” Felicity laughs with such morbid frustration and disappointment it has John a little taken back.

Does he not get it? Does he not get it at all? Over the past few weeks he has never once inquired about how she-Felicity, _singular_ -is doing. _Not once_.

”Really, John?” she asks throwing her hands up in the air, before she laughs mercilessly, full of hurt. ”You’ve got Oliver’s phone number, you know where we live. Why don’t you ask him yourself? And while we're at it, why don't you ask me how I am doing? How it feels to live in the aftermath of all the decisions you and Oliver made about my life, without me...”

He’s looking back at her completely bewildered, and she realises rather painfully, all at once, that he actually had no idea how much he’s hurt her. She’s got to get out of here before she explodes.

Felicity panics and turns away quickly heading back for her gym bag. She hastily throws in her towel, drink bottle, hoodie and gloves, moving nervously as her hands shake. She can feel the bile rise in the back of her throat as the acid aches through her body. She swallows it down, trying to keep as calm as she can. He’s been her rock for such a long time, but why now does his friendship feel like dead-weight?

“Felicity. I am sorry,” John tries following her, and he physically tries to reach out to her, to touch her shoulder, but she cowers away. She can’t deal…

“ _Don’t_ touch me,” she practically snarls swatting his hand away, and John retreats, putting large steps between them, holding his hand’s palms towards her in a move of peace. He looks back at her worriedly, and she can see the pity in his eyes. He finally realises how broken she is by what happened.

Felicity hikes her chin high as she stares up at him furiously, her fingers entwined in the straps of the bag so tightly it’s starting to burn.

“What are you sorry for John?” she’s cool, calm and collected. One last chance...

He flails, rubs his hands together. “Everything,” he admits, and in response, Felicity rolls her eyes.

“Come on John, you’ve been married long enough to know how pathetic that answer is. Apology _not_ accepted,” she tells him, sidestepping him and heading for the door.

They’ve caused a little bit of a commotion at the gym, the other patrons are all watching and listening, try to not appear too obvious about it, but it’s pretty obvious. Rene is keeping a safe distance, but he looks almost lost for words, his brow knitted heavily, his hands on hips as he watches, almost trying to ascertain if he needs to start stepping in before this gets too ugly. But it’s a long time coming and he’s actually almost a little relieved that this is happening with witnesses…because Felicity’s a little like wildfire at the moment. Unpredictable and easily spontaneously combustible.

John turns after her. “Will you hear me out at least?” He calls, and it stops her in her tracks. “Felicity, please, you are usually the reasonable one…”

Felicity turns back fiercely and John looks worried. Really worried. She stalks in close so she can whisper yell at him in private. ”I am _not_ being unreasonable right now. You tracked me down to ask about Oliver. The John I know, he would have asked about me, and he would have wanted to know the answer. You don't, and you haven't for a long time. I have nothing to say to you. If you want to spout your _”we had a mole”_ version of the story to Oliver so you can stop feeling guilty about Diaz’s attack - then go right ahead. But our friendship, it’s never going to be the same. You told me to give up on him. To give up on my life and my family all because it was too hard for you to just help me. William and I needed you John and you deserted us. I don't know how I can forgive you because we never would have given up on you.”

Felicity walks away, heading for the exit, leaving a bewildered John in her wake.

*

Oliver wakes late to an empty bed and a note that Felicity had gone to a yoga class and would be back mid-morning, which leaves him once again alone in the apartment.

She’d come and gone over the past couple of days, working a few hours each day at the loft to reconfigure her security system so she could start using it as an office again. It’s a strange feeling being alone in their home when he hasn’t had a whole lot of privacy over the last few months, and it’s oddly lonely. He has no idea what to do with himself.

He thinks about getting out for some exercise himself, maybe a run, but the prospect of leaving the apartment, coming face to face with people amid the media storm that’s still brewing outside…it all feels a bit overwhelming. It’s like when he first came home from the island and everyone wanted a piece of him, only this time he doesn’t have just himself to think about and he doesn’t have a persona to hide behind; now he is the real unmasked Green Arrow Oliver Queen with a wife and son also in the spotlight, and that’s terrifying.

After showering, a cup of tea and a dry bit of toast he has to practically force down as his hunger is still almost non-existent, Oliver decides to tackle some of the boxes he’d brought back from John and Lyla’s, focusing on setting up William’s room ready for his return.

He opens the first three to find a whole host of William’s things, books, photos, and little pieces he'd brought with him from the house he’d shared with Samantha before the Island. But Oliver also finds some things Will’s collected over the past year and a half, like bits and pieces of science experiments and technology he’d made with Felicity, and the bow and arrow set Oliver and Will had played with endlessly keeping a running score on the winner.

Oliver moves the boxes into the smaller second bedroom down the hall Felicity had marked as William’s. She’d gone as far as buying a new bed, mattress, desk and bedside table for him, but aside from those things, the room was empty. It wouldn’t feel completely like William’s room again until there were towers of books rising like turrets on his bedside table, baseball posters filling the walls and an endless stream of video game noises could be heard down the hall (sometimes along with Felicity’s woos of excitement as she loudly and proudly crushed her stepson at whatever game they were challenging each other to). Oliver was determined to get to work unpacking the boxes marked with Will’s name, finding places for the contents so that when his son did arrive home for Christmas Break, his new room felt as homely as possible.

It’s not easy though to go through William’s things, and Oliver finds himself wishing that his son was already close by. Despite their daily calls, Oliver misses Will more now than he did when he was in prison. Falling into parenthood had been the steepest learning curve he’d ever encountered, but seven months in prison, thinking about his wife and son almost obsessively has put a lot of things into perspective. A lot of things Oliver knows he still has to work through, with Felicity and with William, and honestly, with himself too.

He’s halfway through the third box when the security system pings in the living area and Oliver hears Felicity return.

“Oliver?” She queries once the door is open, and he hears her keys jangle onto the kitchen bench along with her gym bag.

“In here,” he calls from Will’s room, and shortly after Felicity appears in the doorway dressed in gym gear with a big smile, high ponytail and sans glasses. She looks almost carefree for the briefest moment and Oliver finds himself pausing, books in hand and letting himself just have this moment of pure normalcy between them as he just looks at her, the intensity of the past few days forgotten just for now.

“Hi,” she greets in that patent soft Felicity way, stepping into the room with a smile that says the novelty of walking into their home and having him actually there still hasn't worn off. It's definitely a sight she’ll never tire of, her husband in peak barefoot domesticity.

Her eyes scan Will’s almost set up bedroom where Oliver’s been working for the past couple of hours putting together the final pieces of furniture like his desk chair and bookcase, and unpacking his possessions into the places he knows Will will appreciate. Will’s favourite books are stacked high on his nightstand, and the model plane he build with Samantha when he was seven has pride of place on his desk next to his lamp and beside the baby photo of Sam and Will her parents had taken at the hospital. These items mean so much to Will, and it means a lot to Felicity that Oliver had been so compelled to focus on putting them right for his son. A lot of his own things (ie the bunker) are gone and it feels like he’s making progress, long strides of progress, away from the lost man that walked into the apartment five days ago.

This place is also starting to feel like home again for them too.

“He’s going to love this,” Felicity tells Oliver stepping closer for a quick kiss, her smile growing as she rubs his shoulder affectionately and slides into his embrace, her arms around his neck. His arms settle around her waist, holding her close, and he leans in, his forehead almost pressed to hers. ”Good job, everything is almost in its place,” she teases, poking a little bit of fun at Will.

Oliver gives a low laugh, Will can be a bit _particular_ about his things, something Felicity had found was very much a genetic like father, like son disposition. Aside from her tech, she was a little more loosey-goosey, something her boys grumbled about when they continuously tripped over her shoes.

”Are you feeling better after yoga?”

Felicity nods; she honestly felt a million times better after beating her aggression out on the punching bag. So much so that she’d actually been annoyed at John for completely ruining her post-workout buzz with his half-assed attempt at friendship. But is she ready to completely divulge all that, right now?...

She’d told Oliver a little white lie this morning when she’d left him the note about going to yoga. It wasn't like she hid where she was going out of fear he’d be upset or anything, after all, he’d taught her how to box, but things had changed since Diaz attacked her. Felicity had become increasingly self-conscious and a little obsessive about being able to defend herself. Rene had picked up on it, in fact he’d actually encouraged it- he’d taken a job at a boxing gym over the summer to help make ends meet until he figured out his life post City Hall-and he’d suggested that if Felicity was going to crash on his couch in The Glades, then she needed to know the basics.

Felicity had initially scoffed - did he really think that she’d worked with Oliver and John in the bunker for over six years and not learnt a thing or two, but she’d actually been very surprised at how much it helped. She was so torn up inside that boxing, the focus, the release of aggression, the surge of pride she felt when she landed a strong hit, became addictive.

But, this morning she had chickened out on explaining that to Oliver. She knew that he’d get it, this was one thing he would actually understand very easily...but it left her a little more vulnerable than she liked and she feared they’d end up in another argument and she was really enjoying the peace that had settled between them.

She gives him a smile. ”Do you need some help?” she asks, nodding towards the box on the bed he’d just started sorting through.

Oliver cocks an eyebrow at her. “You _hate_ unpacking...”

Felicity laughs at the sceptical look on his face. “Oh I _really_ hate unpacking, but I mean...if I help we can spend time together.” She squeezes Oliver’s hand in hers. “I really miss him too.”

Last night during their daily video chat it had revealed that now William settled into the reality of having his Dad home, his anger and hurt about still being so far away had boiled over. He’d pleaded to come home early because he was miserable there now and didn’t want to be in Boston anymore if there was no danger. Oliver had reminded him that he only had a few more days and he’d be home, and to enjoy the time with his Aunt and Roy while he could. But it had failed, and they’d argued, Oliver’s frustration bubbling up because he was hurting too. But afterwards, the argument had upset Oliver a lot more than she’d thought it would and he’d slept poorly worrying about his parenting skills for long hours until Felicity had poked and prodded little, getting enough out of him to try and ease his worries.

Oliver nods and clears the lump that’s formed in his throat. “Well, I’m working my way through this box at the moment, but it’s not all William’s stuff. There are some photographs in here too…” he says, lifting a photo frame out of the box, being careful of the broken glass. The frame is barely held together and the glass is cracked and jagged, but it’s clearly their wedding photo from the sideboard in their old apartment.

“This makes me sad,” she tells him, picking it out of his hand, an index finger gently tracking the thickest largest crack up the right-hand side of the photo. Not a lot had survived Diaz’s decimation of the rental earlier in the year. John had initially helped her box up what was left in the apartment the day after Oliver had gone to prison, but Felicity had honestly been so zonked out by her emotions that day she’d barely been able to see straight, and in that chaos she hadn’t realised she’d packed the smashed wedding photos into the box of Will’s things.

“It’s _not_ an omen,” Oliver tells her like he’s reading her mind, and Felicity frowns.

“It’s _not_? How do you know?” She asks him quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“They say the first year is the hardest-“ he starts but makes a face, because he’s not really sure who they are. It is just something he’s picked up from somewhere and it suddenly feels and sounds bitter and strange in his mouth.

“I’ll say…” she breathes, but she says it with a small smile that’s oddly comfortingly. Because up until this point every conversation they’d had about their marriage post-Slabside, both directly and indirectly has mostly landed with a fight, pleas of love, or tears. But this one is calm and full of mutual understanding. They have to start talking about this properly if they’re going to heal. “Hard is a bit of an understatement, but I’ll take it.”

“I know our anniversary is still a couple of days away….”

“But, we did make it through the first year,” she reasons, her voice more hopeful than he’s heard in days, in months even, as she holds the broken frame carefully. “Including seven months of prison. That says more than a broken photograph right?”

“I’d say so, but I’m biased,” he admits, smiling down at her tenderly. ”Completely biased. And grateful that you didn’t take John’s advice and give up on me.” He looks at her a little too earnestly, a little too reverently, and it makes her feel guilty for the white lie about the yoga class. She’d decided on the way over that she wasn’t going to tell Oliver about John’s ambush, but now he’s brought John up…

Felicity grimaces, pulling back a little and Oliver tries not to feel disappointed that she pulled away. She returns the broken frame carefully to the box and tries to smile.

“Was there a smaller box with these? Maybe half the size of the others?” She asks, her stomach plummeting a little as she fumbles for a change of topic.

Oliver nods and returns to the lounge room (giving Felicity a minute to put her head in her hands and secretly scold herself) picking through the assortment of boxes still stacked in the storage cupboard. He spots the smaller one immediately, as it is labelled much differently than the others, Oliver only just realising now that someone had written in the small top left corner in pen ‘Hope Springs’.

“Ummm yeah, it’s here,” Oliver tell her, walking back into the room with it. He places it down on the bed and flips open the tabs, Felicity sidling in close, her hand on his back, to see what’s inside.

“There is a photo of Will and you in here somewhere…. - ah here it is. He had this on his nightstand in Hope Springs.” Felicity plucks it from the box, smiling down at it, as she traces their happy smiles. “He wanted to take it with him to Cambridge but we were in such a hurry and I couldn’t remember where the Hope Springs stuff had ended up.”

“What was it like?” Oliver asks, and Felicity looks up at him. “Your  _other_ life in Hope Springs?”

He hadn't really asked much about Witness Protection until now.

Felicity considered the questions for a bit, sitting down on the unmade bed with a sigh. Oliver takes a seat beside her, taking her hand in his, knotting his fingers through hers. She gives him a soft sad smile, one that says she’s so glad he’s home. She missed him, she missed this, so much.

“Simple. Quiet. _Lonely_ ,” Felicity croaks, her other hand gently settling on his knee. “Will and I really only had each other. He hated it so much; it was torture. And Hope Springs was too small for us. It was a bit like when we first moved to Ivy Town and people wanted to know about our lives, our story…but Will and I….we were hopeless at trying to seem normal. We missed our actual lives. We missed you.

“I spent my days working at a coffee shop,” Oliver smiles but has the decency to not let the small laugh he’s suppressing bubble up, and Felicity narrows her eyes at him playfully, “…you know how much I hate making people coffee…and my nights looking for Diaz. I’d crawl into bed beside Will every night before bed and we’d lie there and talk about you. I told him stories about you...about us. About how we met. About all the times we didn’t know how we’d make it through, but we did. It was the only time we’d let ourselves think and talk about you. Because for the other 22 hours of our day, we had to be other people. Other people who didn’t know what it was like to love or lose you…”

Oliver blows out a breath, trying to stifle the wave of guilt washing over him, but it’s too heartbreaking hearing it all straight from her mouth. John had been right about how much they’d struggled in Witness Protection and it made Oliver so vividly angry at John for just leaving them so hopeless and helpless. God, he made such a huge mess of it all. And he’s still been making a huge mess of things since he’s been back…

“I was wrong,” he tells her, and Felicity’s brow knits because…which wrong was he apologising for exactly? She wasn’t keeping score, but there were quite a few things he _could_ apologise for...

Recognizing her apprehension, Oliver presses on, and before he even says anything else, she knows he’s being sincere, that he’s not just grasping at straws, not trying desperately to just make it right because he has to make things right (it’s such an inherent flaw in his essence…but it’s so much part of his charm). He’s apologising because he’s truly found peace in his earlier mistake. “I was wrong about the Cambridge thing, about my opposition to getting Thea and Roy involved. It was the best case scenario. There is no one I trust more to look after our son than you.”

“Thank you,” Felicity tells him, caressing his face tenderly, before leaning forward or a soft, sincere kiss.

“The thing is, Felicity, you make the best decisions for him,” Oliver tells her softly, her lips barely an inch from his. “You always have, since day one. You told me not to push him away and let Sam leave with him after he was kidnapped, and I ignored you. You were trying to find and protect them when Chase started playing games. When Sam died, you were the first one to ask him what he _really_ needed…I have about a hundred - maybe a thousand - examples of how you put William and I back together over and over Felicity...and I am so damn grateful that you love us both so unconditionally…”

“Oliver, of course, I do,” she says, resting one hand over his heart, and he holds it to his chest. “We’re a family. You, William and me. I’m not saying being thrown completely in the deep-end and inheriting a fully grown pre-teen is how I expected our relationship to go all those years ago when I started to fall in love with you, but I wouldn't change it. Not for anything.”

“I love you so damn much,” he tells her with a smile. But he’s on a roll, and he needs to get this other thing out…

“I was also wrong about John,” he says resolutely. “He should have helped you no matter what. You would have done the same, I would have done the same, for him or Lyla. Hiding behind ARGUS…pulling back to try and keep you safe…it is not okay. I understand now. I should have understood earlier...”

Felicity frowns and blows out a breath. “Then, you might be interested to know that ah, John and I have a huge _disagreement_ this morning. Well, actually no, not a disagreement…can a disagreement be one-sided? I mean, I lost my cool, big time, and he actually was pretty calm about it-“

 _“Fe-_ lic _-_ ity _…”_

”John turned up at the gym, wanting to talk. I let him say like five whole words before I just lost my cool at him in front of a room full of people.”

And then Oliver asks the one question she hadn’t been expecting. She’d been expecting him to ask so many questions but not this one first...

“Are you okay?...”

And it damn near breaks the last little thread inside her. ”Ermmm, no, not really actually,” she says sucking in a deep breath, trying to hold back tears because why was every conversation so damn emotional? Couldn’t they just like, Netflix and chill for a bit and not have to deal with all this stuff? Put on a Doctor Who marathon and eat his amazing cooking and snuggle...damn it...

”Did he apologise?”

”He tried to. But not really at the same time.”

Oliver sighs, rubbing a hand across his face shakily.

Felicity’s shoulders slump and she skewers her lip between her teeth worriedly replaying the fight in her mind again.

“Hey,” he says gently, getting her to look at him, making her smile a little with his kindness. “Talk to me, Felicity. Tell me what's going on-” his index finger traces her temple as he pushes some wayward hair behind her ear, ”in there.”

“I wish you’d never sacrificed everything for the team. I wish you’d consulted me. I wish you could understand how hurt I am by John...I wish you trusted me...” It’s a laundry list of all the things sitting between them. Things that bustle around her brain switching it from calm, to sad, to angry at a moment’s notice. Each item on the list is so emotional…so raw…that one moment she thinks she’s fine, that she’s moved passed it, and then oh boy, it’s back with a vengeance, even though he’d apologised.

“I do understand Felicity, and I do trust you-“

Felicity shakes her head. “But you didn’t, Oliver. You were so quick to assume that there was a better way to keep William safe, that John had the right version of what happened...”

“I was wrong,” he tells her again.

Felicity leans closer, her hands cupping his cheek.

“Oliver, I love you. I love you so very much. But I can nearly count on two hands the number of men who have tried to kill me because of how much I love you. Because of how much you love me. And Oliver, it’s starting to take its toll...I had to protect us...”

“You are the strongest person I know. You always have been...” he tries to tell her, but it’s not enough, because she’s right. That target on it her back, it’s always because of him.

“Baby, I feel like I’m breaking,” she admits softly, “I am scared all the time and I don’t feel safe. I don’t feel safe Oliver, even now you're home.”

And whoa. That hits him square in the chest. He holds her tighter.

“I will always protect you, Felicity, always. Diaz was different, but I am never going to let that happen again. _Never_. To you or William.”

It’s barely enough...but somehow it’s still everything. And she kind of realises at that moment, that just like she needs everyone to stop expecting she’s okay, she needs to give Oliver the same courtesy and that she needs to stop putting him in the position to say sorry. Expecting him to apologise over and over doesn’t make this easier. He’s said it a million times...and he’ll say it a million more...but at what cost?

“Oliver, we’re going to be okay,” Felicity tells him climbing into his lap, and his arms wind around her lower back to stop her from slipping off his knee. She’s sitting in his lap, legs either side of his thighs, her hands cupping his cheek.

Felicity presses her lips to his softly for a few kisses before she rubs her nose against his. His earlier apology about John, about Will, is enough for now. She knows their argument the other day had been bigger than just her, that it came with a whole plethora of his own worries, and she’s been trying for days to not push him, to let him get to this point on his own.

They were making progress.

Oliver breathes a deep sigh of relief, calmness washing over him as she gently caresses his face. He leans into her touch, his eyes drifting closed as he rests his forehead against hers. They sit there together, for long minutes, the anxiety seeping out of both of their bones until Felicity speaks again placing soft kisses on his skin, her voice a whisper against his throat.

”Can we come back to the unpacking? Because I have better plans for the afternoon...”

He captures her lips again, softly, before the kiss depends, and he bands one strong arm around her hips, the other pulling her face closer as her tongue slips into his mouth.

The make-out session continues for a while, Oliver’s hands reaching up under the hem of her hoodie and t-shirt seeking out her breasts, before Felicity gasps and pulls back from his lips. “We can’t do this here,” she says in a scandalous whisper, her hand on his, as his fingers caress the sensitive skin right under her sports bra. “This is Will’s room… I would feel so guilty and gross and…” she lets out of a yelp of surprise and a laugh as Oliver hoists them up, her legs wrapped around his waist and walks them back towards their bedroom, losing bits of Felicity’s clothing along the way.

  
*

“Everything okay?” Felicity asks, checking her lipstick in the front facing camera of her phone. She’d applied it twice already tonight, but both occasions had ended up with it smothered on Oliver’s skin…he had actually been very determined to distract them both enough to miss the event, but Felicity was more determined that this was happening. The city was going to honour him, they were going to honour this cause, and she wasn’t about to let his worry about how the city was going to receive him ruin that when she knew that the vast majority were just as proud of him as she was…

Oliver nods briefly, his eyes focused on his phone screen as they head across town in the town-car the Mayor had sent for the gala.

“Yeah, just a text from Dinah,” Oliver says, tucking his phone into the inside pocket of his jacket. “We’re running a little late. Everyone is there already…”

Felicity raises an eyebrow because that was 100% his fault. “Including John?” Felicity asks with a grimace.

“Including John and Lyla,” Oliver says with a small smile.

Felicity nods. It had been a couple of days since their loud conversation at the gym, and John had been radio silent, much to Felicity’s relief. But she’s not going to let whatever is going on with John take the focus away from tonight. Tonight was about Oliver. And Felicity couldn’t be prouder.

“I am going to be by your side the whole night,” Felicity tells him happily, sliding her hands into his. “Except when you make your speech, then I will be right in front of you, the proudest person in the whole room. And if it all gets too much, you just say the words and we are out of there in a snap.”

“Yeah?” Oliver breathes. Because he’s not going to lie, this is the most nervous he’s probably ever been in his entire life. This was a huge deal. He didn’t have any masks left to hide behind. He’d always had some version of himself to slide in place for the public. Whether it was Ollie, or CEO Oliver, or Mayor Oliver, or the Green Arrow…but this time, this was the first time he was just Oliver. He had no other personas to rely upon up…he was maskless…and it was fucking terrifying.

“Yeah,” Felicity tells him proudly. “You’re gonna do just fine, baby. I’m like glue, remember?”

He squeezes her hand appreciatively. “I remember,” he says.   
  
And, everything seems pretty fine until they hit the lobby of the Conference Centre, and then the wolves descend. There is press everywhere, camera flashes and questions swarm around him, and Oliver suddenly feels exposed and unsettled…he feels panicked. It takes all of his willpower to keep his breathing even, and he relies on the tight grip of Felicity’s hand in his, pulling him through the crowd, snapping polite responses to their screeching questions in a calm manner. They get to the top of the staircase, right before the cordoned off area for the event, and he finally feels like he can breathe again…right up until Max Fuller appears in his face...

“Is it just me or is that guy that absolute worst,” Felicity says making a face of disgust once they are out of earshot and photo range of Max Fuller and the media. “I think you did his fiancé a favour. I mean I _know_ you did-“

Oliver huffs a laugh, stopping in his tracks, staring incredulously after his wife. Felicity makes a couple more steps before she pulls back too, swinging around to look at him in surprise. “Why’d you stop? The event’s this way…” she points to the sign directing them towards the function room.

“Are you? Did you just-?” Oliver gapes at her a little, and Felicity just smiles back at him impishly.

“Did I just make a joke about you having sex with _other_ women? Namely Max Fullers ex-wife-“

“Amanda…” Oliver supplies and Felicity scrunches her nose because ummm…she wasn’t really looking for a name.

“Okay, Max Fuller’s ex-wife _Amanda_. I’m actually surprised you remember it. I mean, I am _sure_ you remember names, I mean, maybe not all the names…like I hope you do because that’s kind of gross if you didn’t even get names before you like _you know_ …”

 _“Fe-_ lic _-_ ity _…”_

“Okay, slightly derailed there, but what I meant was like, it’s impossible that you’ve ever been bad in bed. I’m sure Max Fuller’s literally the frat boy that never grew up. So yeah, you totally did Amanda a favour.” Felicity huffs a breath, and her cheeks tinge pink a little. “Am I making sense? Because I feel like I am, but also talking complete nonsense…anyway, you couldn’t pay me to date that guy.”

“Are you okay?” Oliver asks, stepping closer, enclosing his hand in hers. “I mean you just did brilliantly back there. I’m horrendously out of practice, and the last time there were that many cameras in our face, I was ruining our whole lives. But you, you were so…”

“Proud,” Felicity tells him, stepping closer, smiling up at him tenderly as she smushing his jaw between her thumb and forefinger. They’ve barely walked inside the event, and everyone’s eyes are already on them. Felicity is making this conscious decision to have this moment together in sight but away from everyone. Because, she can see the little vein in his temple thumping away, and the way he swallows thickly. She’s trying to keep his mind off it by being light and airy. And it’s so appreciated, he can’t even begin to explain.

“Everyone is staring at me,” he whispers softly as she leans in for a kiss.

“Or they are staring at me, wondering if I knew,” Felicity tells him.

“If they only knew what a team we make,” he tells her, sliding his hand into hers again and she beams.

“All that matters is that we are a team, you and me. _Forever, baby_.” Felicity takes a deep breath, smacking her lips together. “Ready?”

Oliver’s eye’s flit around the room briefly and the breath catches in his chest. “No.”

“Me either,” Felicity admits, turning towards the entry. “Let’s do this.” 

*

Felicity flops down on the bed, eliciting a groan as she reaches down to pull off her shoes.

“Are we going to talk about you working with the Police as a consultant on this? It kind of puts you very publicly back in the spotlight just a few hours ago you were _very_ resistant too...”

Oliver frowns as he shrugs off his jacket. She’s not wrong, but what choice does he have. He needs to know who this copycat is. Does she really expect him to sit this out?…

“I mean I didn’t expect you to sit this out…” she continues, knowing him too well, “but it’s a big step, Oliver. And its one we haven’t talk about.”

Oliver nods. “I know. What do you think?”

Felicity thinks for a moment, curling her feet up underneath her on the bed, despite her tight dress. “I think you need to be careful.”

“I will,” Oliver assures her. “But, Felicity this is what I do best. I know I just got out of prison, and I haven’t really thought about what happens next. I mean, I can’t go back to City Hall. And I don’t know what future Team Arrow has now I’m unmasked. This might be my opportunity to have a future, and save this city.”

“I know this is what you do best Oliver because we catch criminals together. But, if you start working with the SCPD, I am not going to be able to help you as I did. They have people that do what I do…”

“Badly, and at a tenth of the speed,” he says and she smiles.

“That might be true, but they are the experts. I am not a cop, and I’m not a named vigilante. I’m not meant to be an expert in the things that I actually am Oliver. If you work for the SCPD, where does that leave Team Arrow?”

“I don't know,” Oliver admits. “I honestly don't Felicity. We don’t know where this is going to lead. Maybe we find this new Green Arrow and then it’s all over. Dinah throws us out…”

Felicity smiles. “You really think, with the state the Police Department is in this City, that Dinah is going to make this a one-time thing?”

“Dinah’s going to have Pollard to answer to, so it’s not a done deal. But, if it’s longer term, is it okay with you? Me working for the Police?”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes.”

Felicity gets to her feet. He would never hold her back if they were in different positions, and she’d never do the same. Not now it could be legitimate, him making a difference without a mask, without the threat of prison or ruining their lives hanging in the balance.

”Then Oliver, _do it_. But be careful and stay sharp. Because your way of doing things isn’t strictly _legal_ a lot of the time.”

“I am not going back to prison,” Oliver tells her, curling a finger at her to come closer and turn around so he can unzip her dress.

“Good,” she sighs closing her eyes as he pulls the zipper down, and places a soft kiss on her naked shoulder. “Because I think the first time was enough for both of us.”

  
*

The dive bar on Hemley St Oliver had picked for the meeting doesn’t disappoint, the clientele largely low key and unassuming as he pushes through the heavy glass door. The dank and slightly sweet smell of aged and stale alcohol hit his nostrils, and a bunch of men at the pool table at the back of the room look up, his buzz cut, top buttoned shirt and jacket attracting attention. Oliver doesn’t care and he strides towards the bar like he’s completely at home, grimacing at the young, slim tattooed bartender as he turns around from stacking fresh bottle of clear spirits from the shelves behind the bar.

It takes a moment, but recognition passes across the guy’s face and he smiles. “What can I get you?”

Oliver holds up two fingers. “Vodka. Neat,” he says, taking a seat at the bar. He unbuttons his jacket, settling into his position at the empty bar, the news showing on the flat screen above his head, replaying the footage of Oliver sans mask, holding his bow at Fuller in the middle of the club. Oliver ducks his head a little as the bartender returns with the shots. He holds out a twenty, but the bartender shakes his head.

“You’re money is no good here Mr Queen. The Green Arrow saved my sister on Genesis Day. I could never thank you enough.”

Oliver, still very unused to public attention as the Green Arrow nods a gracious thank you and deciding he’s not going to wait, downs a shot, and orders a replacement with the flick of his index finger.

The door to the bar opens again, admitting another patron, and Oliver frowns as the man approaches and takes a seat beside him.

“Я не ожидал услышать от тебя, Оливер (I didn’t expect to hear from you, Oliver),” Anatoly says, resting his elbows on the bar.

Oliver sighs heavily, turning his head to look at Anatoly, an almost violent look on his face. Anatoly, after everything, has the decency to gulp. Oliver doesn’t reply, just stares him down, and Anatoly frowns, reaching for one of the shots and downing it carefully.

“прочность (prochnost),” he says, placing the shot glass down on the bar. “You going to tell me why you’ve summoned me?”

Oliver smiles and raises an eyebrow, and it’s a little terrifying. “You _know_ why, Anatoly.”

Anatoly sighs. “Felicity Smoak,” he says, and Oliver nods calmly.

“Felicity Smoak,” Oliver says, right before he’s suddenly off his chair and punching Anatoly right in the face.

The older man lands on the floor flat out on his back, awake but dazed, the taste of blood in his mouth. Oliver looms over him for a moment. “If you ever talk to her again, I’ll shoot you myself. Am I clear?” The threat is menacing and 100% serious.

Anatoly nods, wiping at his bloody lip. “кристально чистый (crystal clear).”

“хорошо. Приятной жизни Анатолий. (Good. Have a nice life Anatoly),” Oliver tells him before stepping right over him and leaving the bar, the door closing heavily behind him.

There is no movement from the other patrons, everyone stilled by the fact the older bearded man was just punched to the floor by the former Mayor, current ex-criminal and unmasked Green Arrow. No one really knows how to react, except Tom, the bartender.

Tom leans over the bar, not the slightest bit deterred by the man bleeding on his floor. “Oliver Queen drinks for free. For you, it’s $10.50.”

Anatoly groans. “Блядь (fuck).”

*

**[This world can hurt you**   
**It cuts you deep and leaves a scar**   
**Things fall apart, but nothing breaks like a heart...]**

She’s here again.

Her fists slam against the leather to the rhythm and it’s both satisfying and ludicrous at the same time. It’s a pop song, a damn pop song, and it speaks to everything so fracking perfectly it was maddening. She starts the combo again, resetting her feet and pounding out the choreography as it filters through her mind in that even paced, methodical way Oliver had taught her.

_“I just don’t know right now if what’s best for me, is what’s best for us…”_

God, the amount of pain those sixteen little words had created inside her. Inside him. She’d watched his face fall, the sadness that hung in the air between them. It had been devastating…but honest. So honest. And neither of them had known what to say or where to start. And then his phone had rung and Dinah had wanted him down at the Police Station and their entire conversation flatlined.

And, here she was, hours later, back at this punching bag try to sort through everything. Again.

**_[We live and die by pretty lies_ **   
**_You know it, oh, we both know it_ **   
**_These silver bullet cigarettes_ **   
**_This burning house, there's nothing left_ **   
**_It's smoking, we both know it…]_ **

It's early afternoon and aside from a couple of large tattoed guys by the weights bench, and Rene flicking through staff schedules at the desk, the gym is empty and quiet.

He’d greeted her with a knowing grimace when she’d arrived and a ”That bad huh?” which summarised an entire conversation without actually needing to have it. Felicity had tightened the band in her ponytail and sighed, replying with a drawn-out ”Yeppp.”

He waved her through and she’d gone straight for her favourite spot. And she’d been here for the last forty minutes, hitting the bag as hard as she could, the music once again loud and meditative in her headphones. She was covered in sweat, drenched, long beads dripping down her arms. She takes a break, grabbing for her towel, and flopping down on the mat to stretch out her tired legs. There is a small niggle in her sciatic nerve and she briefly scolds herself, wondering if she’s pushed herself too far before a pair of familiar running shoes appears in her sight line. She looks up to find her husband dressed in gym gear and a nervous smile.

She pulls off her headphones and stares up at him a little sheepishly if she’s honest because her guilty little secret is clearly no longer a secret.

”Hi,” he says with a tender smile and soft voice he reserves only for her and boy if that look and sound alone are not reason one and two on the list of reasons she fell in love with him, she doesn't know what are.

”Hey,” she replies a little breathlessly. ”How did you find me?”

Oliver smiles and points to Rene on the other side of the room trying and failing to look discrete. ”Rene.”

Felicity groans. ”He’s such a meddler.”

”Big time. Have you met Rene?”

Felicity smiles at Oliver’s joke and he offers his hand to help her up. She accepts, and he pulls her to her feet. She's standing close and he’s looking down at her tenderly, one hand still at her elbow, he fingers making the softest of touches against her skin.

”What are you doing here?” she asks softly and Oliver frowns a little.

”I am sorry we didn't finish our conversation this morning. I had to sign some papers for Dinah, make it all official,” he tells her. ”But haven't stopped thinking it, and I didn't want to wait for you to come home. Partly because I guess I was a little worried you _wouldn't_ come home...”

Felicity takes his hand. ”Oliver, I am not going anywhere...”

He nods.

"Felicity, I didn't say what I needed to say to you this morning because I didn't know how to say it. But, it is what I should have said to you the other night instead of berating you about the gun...maybe what I should have said that first night home...Felicity, I should have told you this morning that I think you are wrong...” Felicity blinks back at him because that started off well and then kind of didn't go anywhere she was expecting...”What's good for _you_ and what's good for _us_ , those are _not_ mutually exclusive things. I never want them to be. How do we push forward together but get you what you need?”

Ah, there it is. She takes a deep fortifying breath.

”Oliver, I need to feel safe. And secure. And strong. Not terrified that I am going to lose you or I am going to be some enemy’s next easy target. I need to get off the _fight-about-all-the-bad-decisions-we’ve-made-in-the-past-and-ways-we’ve-hurt-each-other-merry-go-round_. I need William home, with us, and I need our family to be a priority. I need to focus on Smoak Tech-”

”You named it?” he asks brightly and she grins at his smile.

”Yeah. You like it?”

He nods at her proudly. ”I love it, it's perfect, ” he tells squeezing her hand.

”...I need to focus on Smoak Tech. I need to figure out how to be this version of Felicity, the version I want to be, but still the version that you love. Not because you have to, because you _want_ to...”

And, honestly, that's not all she needs. But the list is long and those are the summary points. They aren't in any particular order either, but they all matter. Felicity’s face clouds with confusion when Oliver unzips his green hoodie and throws it on the bench behind her next to her gym bag.

”Oliver? What are you doing?”

Oliver smiles back at her as he reaches for some boxing pads from the nearby rack. He smiles pushing his hands into a set and turns towards her, setting his feet.

”I am training with you. If you want to feel safe and strong, then we train together until you feel it. But, we’re not just going to box...”

Felicity’s eyes light up. ”You’ll teach me martial arts? Like a _ninja_?”

And Oliver can't help laugh at the look of joy on her face. ”I’ll teach you what I know. And we’ll go from there. Yeah?”

”Yes, ” Felicity says grabbing her gloves and sliding them back on. ”A big yes.”

”One more thing,” he tells her as she approaches, hands up and ready to start, and her stance softens a little.

”Yeah?”

”I want us to see a counsellor. I know after everything at Slabside it seems like a crazy idea but...Felicity, we’ve been through so much over the last seven years. And it's taking its toll on both of us, our marriage, us individually. Even William. We need to talk to someone, as a couple, and as individuals. We don't have to live in the shadows anymore.”

She doesn't need to consider it; this is him trying, he’s so out of his comfort zone, asking for outside help has always rattled him, but they actually need this. And not just for them, but each other.

He’s looking back at her so apprehensively like he has no idea if that's the right thing...

”Yes, let’s do it. Let's talk to someone, ” she says moving close, wrapping her gloves around his neck to bring him closer for a soft kiss.

He holds her close, as best he can with just hands buried in boxing pads, and when she breaks their kiss softly, he pulls her back, seeking out more.

”Oi!” Rene calls across the room. ”There will be none of that in my gym!”

And Felicity and Oliver laugh as they pull apart.

”Are you sure you want to train together...” Felicity asks waggling her eyebrows at her husband in his tight fitting t-shirt and sweatpants. Damn. ”I mean we don't have a great track history of finishing workouts the same way we started...”

Oliver chuckles. He admittedly had the same thought when he’d seen her and her curves in the sports compression tights and sports bra from across the room.

”I am pretty sure Rene’s not going to appreciate the way we used to end workouts. So, we’ll just have to keep our clothes on until we get home.” Felicity makes a face and Oliver laughs. He taps his pads against hers. ”You ready?”

She beams back at him. ”Let’s do this, Baby.”

*

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Stay tuned, Elseworlds is next.


	4. Four: Elseworlds, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four: Elseworlds, Part 1: So the life-swap has happened, Barry and Oliver have found each other but there is a new plan and they aren't ready to leave Star City yet...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed some canon-y type things I said I wouldn’t in my initial chapters. Sorry, but I’m not sorry.
> 
> And I’ve had to up the chapter on this story as I’ve decided to rewrite Elseworlds into like 86 chapters. That’s okay with you guys right? (I’m kidding. It’s probably like 5. Maybe. WE have a lot of thoughts. Sorry. It’s shorter chapters or like no updates ever...)

 

 

**Four: Elseworlds, Part 1**

 

**[This world can hurt you**

**It cuts you deep and leaves a scar…]**

Oliver wakes with a start and a small sharp cry, his mouth dry and chest heaving, the nightmare he’d been engulfed in robbing him of air.

He’s sweaty and hot and feels suddenly very claustrophobic his legs kicking off the blanket quickly even though it’s December and cold in Star City. He rubs his hand across his face soberly, trying desperately to stave off what he hopes is just a night terror and not a full blown panic attack as he tries to shuffle through a myriad of real vs. fake memories and the dark anonymous figure that had just haunted his sleep…

“…You okay?” Felicity asks softly, rolling towards him, her movements slow and careful, designed not to spook him. She doesn’t touch him, but there is barely any distance between them as she crawls towards the edge of her pillow to look at him more astutely in the darkness of their bedroom. Her breath ghosts against the skin of his shoulder in warm puffs, and her fingers flex against the fabric as she pointedly keeps her hands to herself until he confirms he is awake and okay.

His tongue feels heavy, his voice is still absent from the paralysis of the deep sleep he’d fought his way out of. It felt so real...all of it. The dark starry sky that stretched in forever around him bending time and comprehension and the deep murmur of the incoherent but powerful voice, the intensity terrifying and formidable despite the hazy details...and then there was _nothing_. Oliver’s gaze flicks to hers and his eyes are full of grief. It felt so real...the way he’d felt the life drain from him, and the terrifying nothingness that poured in. He’d dreamt of dying before, hell, he’d even nearly died before, but nothing felt as real as this.

Oliver shivers, the aftermath of his nightmare sending a cold jolt through his body, and instinctively Felicity grabs for the blanket again, sitting up to pull it back over them. Seeing he is fully awake, she leans closer, her hand on his bare chest, right above the scar of his former tattoo. He grabs for her hand, entwining his fingers with hers, pressing her small soft hands into his skin, grounding himself with her touch.

“Just a nightmare,” he rasps back, his breathing still a little laboured. He turns towards her, folds into her body, his form seeking hers, and she snuggles back under the covers, pulling the blanket over their heads, cocooning them in linen.

His eyes close in relief and she tugs him closer, pressing his face into her neck as she wraps her arms around him and holds him close. He clutches to her tightly, arms wrapping around her too, like he’s clinging to her warmth and the tenderness and care that radiates back at him.

“Prison?” She asks, nuzzling the top of his very short cropped hair, and surprisingly Oliver shakes his head.

Oliver’s hold tightens on her, his nose against the pulse point in her neck. ”No, something else. I dreamt I died,” he reveals softly. “I wasn’t killed…I just _died_.”

It’s almost worse he feels. He’s a warrior. Being killed as the Green Arrow or in a fight….that is entirely his own making. But dying…that’s the terrifying thing. Just dying isn’t in his hands.

Felicity cards her fingers through his hair and places a soft kiss in his hair. “Bad guy?” She barely understands and he doesn’t know how to fully explain it.

”I don't know,” he admits because the dream version of himself didn't seem surprised....”But it felt so real...”

Felicity gives him a soft tender smile, before squirming against him, giving him a gentle push back into the pillows. He’s reluctant to let her go, his brows knit together in confusion because he was very much enjoying the comfort, and she huffs a laugh at his sleepy confusion. She palms his face tenderly, fingers stroking the hairs of his beard fondly,and he sighs, exhaling deeply.

”The dream wasn't real Oliver. You are here with me. In our bed, in our home.” she reminds him. ”That’s _real_...”

And yep, now he gets where she is going with this. She tries again, gently pushing him backwards, and he goes willingly this time, his hands settling on her legs as she climbs into his lap, the blanket still over their heads. “This is what’s _real_ Oliver...” she says, hovering over him, her hair falling in her face as she leans forward to punctuate her sentence with a soft chaste kiss. But she’s playing with him, trying to force good thoughts into his panicked mind, and he knows it, and he loves her for it. So as she pulls back, preparing to pull off his t-shirt that she’d worn to bed, he follows, chasing another dirtier and much hotter kiss; one that leaves them both a little breathless, their intimacy moving from tender to heated.

”This is _real_ ,” he repeats, his lips barely removed from hers as he stares down his long lashes at her, his hands cupping her face gently. And damn...she’s in for a _real_ treat.

Oliver laughs, and Felicity rolls her eyes. She said it out loud.

”You short-circuited my brain,” she teases, taking another kiss. ”I was trying to be all soft and tender...and then you stuck your tongue in my mouth and ramped it right up...”

”And..?” he asks almost innocently, as his hands do anything but innocent things; the way he grasps her ass like that, grinds his growing erection a little against her, like he’s about to worship her, it really is sinful.

”And now I’d like you to sex me up _real_ good please.”

She expects him to laugh, to throw her back on the bed and get started, but he doesn't. Not just yet. Oh, he’s very much about to sex her real good, but first...he just needs a beat.

“This is real,” he repeats, taking just one more tender moment as he nibbles softly at her bottom lip, and she nods.

”Nightmares and all,” she tells him. ”We’re messy Oliver, but we can get through it-- _anything_ \--together.”

**[Things fall apart, but nothing breaks like a heart...]**

 

*

The following morning. 

Felicity frowns as the dial tone on other ends of the phone rings past the limit she deems entirely acceptable. Oliver has always been the answer her call by the third or fourth ring kind of guy (even in a crisis) so this was a little unnerving. There was no greeting on his new voicemail yet just a beep, and she sighs heavily as her call diverts to silence. _Again_.

She turns away from the adjacent door, lowering her voice to a nervous and desperate whisper into the phone.

” _Oliver_...where are you? It's nearly one. You were meant to be here at least half an hour ago. Is everything okay? I am trying to not be angry right now as this whole therapy thing with Dr Azzopardi was actually _your_ idea...” Felicity frowns. She is a bit stunned, to be honest, that he is standing her up like this. She might have left him in bed this morning and headed to the loft to work on her security system while he slept, but she’d expected him to meet her like they arranged the previous afternoon. ”Please... _please Oliver_...call me back.” She disconnects the call and sighs heavily again, the grip on her phone tightening a little with worry and a little more with fear. Especially after the small panic attack that had woken them in the night.

Felicity had left Oliver no less than twelve messages from the therapist’s office. _Twelve_. Where the frack was he? If he was in trouble he would have hit the panic button by now. They’d decided to do this--their first session--together only a few days ago...so why is she standing in the oddly small waiting room alone and without him?

**[I heard you on the phone last night**

**We live and die by pretty lies**

**You know it, oh, we both know it…]**

”Any luck?” Dr Kirsten Azzopardi asks popping her head around the corner of her office door.

She’d suggested giving Felicity some privacy to make yet another call to Oliver; but now she was back, and even though she was friendly and professional and seemed very accommodating to the fact that Felicity and Oliver (while paying for it) are kind of wasting her time, Felicity couldn't help feel a little embarrassed. And hurt. Surely this looked just as terrible as it felt? And it felt pretty horrid if she was being honest…

”No,” Felicity says with a grimace. ”I’m really sorry. My Husband has just started a new job, and he’s a bit scattered still after...you know _everything_. Do you mind if we reschedule?”

Kirsten cocks her head at Felicity, smiling back at her gently. She steps away from her position blocking the doorway, leaving a clear path for Felicity into her brightly lit and comfortable office. ”You’ve paid for the hour Ms Smoak, why don't we get started anyway?”

It doesn’t really feel like a question Felicity can say an open no to, and despite the way her stomach somersaults, backflips and damn near triple pikes, Felicity finds herself nodding nervously.

”Without him?”

”Why not?” Kirsten suggests, and it makes the anxiety prickle across Felicity’s skin with goosebumps.

**[These silver bullet cigarettes**

**This burning house, there's nothing left**

**It's smoking, we both know it**

**We got all night to fall in love**

**But just like that we fall apart**

**We're broken, we're broken…]**

”Um, yeah okay,” she finds herself agreeing before she can find a way to say no.

”Great,” Kirsten tells her brightly, ushering Felicity into her office and closing the door behind them. ”And when Oliver arrives, he can join us.” Kirsten gestures to the comfortable tan leather sofa across from her matching tan leather armchair and Felicity gingerly takes a seat, stowing her handbag at her feet and clutching to her phone tightly as she nestles it in her lap just _willing_ for Oliver to call back.

Kirsten makes herself comfortable, closing the folio cover of the tablet she had been making notes on while waiting and gives Felicity a reassuring look.

Felicity clears her throat, her fingers dancing across her knee nervously, picking at an invisible pulled thread in her jeans. ”Right,” she says in a patented bubbly Felicity way, trying desperately to seem more confident than she actually is. ”Where do we start?”

Kirsten smiles. ”Why don't you start by telling me about _you_ Felicity?”

”Should I start with the _”I was born July 24th 1989...”_ type thing or...?” Felicity plays, but Kirsten doesn't laugh and Felicity squirms in her chair a little at the intense look the late thirties red-haired therapist is giving her.

”Wherever you feel comfortable,” Kirsten reassures kindly.

Felicity gives a grimace, suddenly feeling very exposed and a little more overwhelmed than she anticipated.

”I guess that's the thing,” Felicity admits. ”I don't _actually_ feel comfortable all. I mean, that's not a reflection on you, of course, you seem perfectly lovely, but Oliver and I agreed to do this together and...” another thought dawns on her. ”Is this normal? This rambling thing…? I mean it’s normal for me, I ramble all the time but do other people start off like this because wow, this must be a lot to take in if everyone just starts right out the gate rambling on an at a million miles an hour…”

Felicity internally facepalms. _Oh_ _frack_. _Get a grip Smoak, get a grip._

Kirsten leans forward a little, smiling reassuringly at her new patient.

”Listen, Felicity, I know Oliver not being here with you today has rattled you. But-- _please_ \--relax. Take a deep breath. We can start anywhere you feel comfortable. It doesn't have to be at the beginning, or at the end. You just have to start with what's on your mind and we can go from there.”

Felicity nods, still sharply holding her breath; it doesn't go unnoticed.

Kirsten tries a different tactic, one that she hopes will lift the worried look on Felicity's face as she chews at her bottom lip pensively.

“To get us started, why don’t I tell you what I already know about you?” Kirsten smiles.

Felicity gingerly nods, even though the question is strange, and she’s a little worried about what exactly Kirsten is going to reveal. Her life isn’t exactly an open book, but she’s no secret to the public eye, especially since she’d met Oliver.

”You’re Felicity Smoak, former CEO of Palmer Technologies. You have a dual Masters degree from MIT and are a certified genius by all accounts. You’re married to Oliver Queen, the Green Arrow and former Star City Mayor, former CEO of Queen Consolidated. You’re Step-Mom to William, Mr Queen’s son from a previous relationship. You were paralyzed from the waist down three years ago and your colleague developed a microchip that was implanted in your spine to help you walk again. Felicity, I can read all of this in the newspapers or online. So, knowing that I know the basics, why don't we start where you _feel_ most comfortable? It doesn't need to be in 1989 or 2019 for that matter…”

Felicity nods, exhaling the breath trapped in her chest with a long sigh. This is terrifying. She feels the last seven years, maybe ten, maybe more...stretching all the way back from everything with Cooper to when her Dad left when she was just a kid...it all rushes in, and right in the middle stands Oliver and William...and wow...where does she even begin?

Felicity takes a deep calming breath and sits back further in her chair, letting her weight sink softly into the leather. She has no idea where she’s going to start until her mouth opens and she finds the place where all her current anxieties begin tumbling forward into their conversation.

“Seven years ago, Oliver Queen walked into my office at Queen Consolidated with a laptop full of bullets. He’s the love of my life, and my world has never been the same since...”

 

*

Oliver feels like he’s going to vomit, like actually hurl, and the energy hangover he has with Barry’s powers coursing powerfully through his body is blinding. His thoughts are erratic and wild, he feels like he's taken like _a hundred_ too many bumps of cocaine and while his body is stable(ish), processing through it like it is used to it, it is at complete odds with his mind that most certainly can't keep up. He’s never felt this way, his skin itching as he stares back at a rather angry and worried looking Barry, the glow from the cracked Bunker monitor in front of them colouring his face in an ominous dark hue.

”We need to fix this right now...” Barry tells him again with exasperation when he realises that Oliver woke up in his and Iris’ bed, in his and Iris’ life. His powers were one thing, but Iris...

”Obviously, we need to fix this, Barry,” Oliver snaps, hands on hips, but his brow knits when Barry frowns digging into the cargo pocket of his pants curiously. ”....what?”

”Your damn phone, it won’t stop...oh _whoa_ ,” Barry frowns as his fingerprints (that’s creepy) open the lock screen on Oliver’s phone, and scrolls through the call log.

”What?” Oliver asks again, more irksome.

Barry grimaces. ”You have twelve missed calls from Felicity...”

**[We'll leave each other cold as ice**

**And high and dry, the desert wind**

**Is blowin', is blowin’…]**

Oliver snatches the phone from Barry’s hand and fuck. _Fuuuccccck_. He was meant to be at Dr Azzopardi’s office over an hour and a half ago. Felicity is going to be so hurt; this is the worst timing. He’s right in the middle of trying to repair his marriage and he’s literally stuck in someone else’s life.

“Where were you this morning?”

Barry frowns, rubbing a hand through his hair. “At ARGUS...morning training session with Dig. And by training session I mean, I woke up-he was kicking my ass-and then I kicked his... _without_ my powers.” Barry grins but Oliver doesn’t seem amused.

“You didn’t see Felicity at all? You didn’t talk to her?”

“No man, I mean I didn’t wake up in bed with her if that’s what you mean?”

“I’m not worried about that,” Oliver tells him shortly. Oliver sighs, rubbing a hand across his face as he reads a couple of the desperate and pleading messages from Felicity. Another wave of anxiety hits and for a completely different reason. This is so terribly bad…

“You look like you are going to barf,” Barry notes. “Are you okay?”

Oliver shakes his head, eyes on the screen as he scrolls. “I had an important thing with Felicity this morning. I missed it.”

Barry frowns. “Well, whatever it is, I am sure Felicity will understand.”

Oliver gives him a look that says right now, he seriously doubts it. He doubts he’ll even ever understand it...

“I mean, once we all understand what’s happening,” Barry adds slightly unhelpfully.

“And what _is_ happening, exactly Barry?” Oliver asks, not too proud right now to admit that his friend who has a track record of royally fucking up time, is probably more experienced with this predicament than him.

Barry sighs, rubbing his hands together thoughtfully for a moment before he shrugs a little.

“I have no idea...” he admits making a face.

“You mean you didn’t-?”

“No!” Barry snaps with exasperation. “Why is this automatically my fault?”

Oliver frowns. “You want me to answer that honestly or-?”

Barry grimaces. ”What do you think?”

“I think we have to talk to Felicity ASAP,” Oliver decides. ”She loves a mystery; this will hopefully make complete sense to her...”

Barry gives him a look that says pining his hopes on that fact alone is completely misguided but I mean, they had encountered actual Aliens (well, they were friends with one too) and evil Nazi doppelganger of themselves and friends before. A little bit of body swapping would make perfect sense to a genius like Felicity right...?

“Are you sure that’s the best move?...we could try STAR labs?”

Oliver replies with a look that tells Barry absolutely not, Team Flash were smart and amazing people, but they weren't his people, his _person_...and he stops short of actually saying the words. He has to remind himself this isn’t actually Barry’s fault, and his head off probably isn’t going to help in the long run, despite the immediate stress relief it’ll produce. “Once we know something, have anything to work with, we’ll bring Team Flash in. Until then, we need an ally. Felicity is that ally.”

**[This world can hurt you**

**It cuts you deep and leaves a scar**

**Things fall apart, but nothing breaks like a heart…]**

Barry scoffs. ”Iris would be a good ally too,” Barry tells him slightly annoyed that Oliver’s go to is Oliver’s wife and not his.

Iris might not get the science behind this, but she’d trust him. He _knows_ it.

“What’s the first thing you’d say to Iris?” Oliver counters.

Barry frowns. “I don’t know Oliver, what’s the first thing _you’d_ say to Felicity?”

They both have absolutely no idea how to start this conversation, but Oliver feels like he’s got a better grasp on it.

“I’d start by telling her that this is real,” Oliver says, and Barry blinks and tries really hard not to roll his eyes.

“Seems mildly unhelpful in explaining how this happened,” Barry admits, folding his arms against his chest.

“Do you know how this happened?”

“Not a clue,” Barry admits. “But I feel like I’m a little more Lindsay Lohan than Jamie Lee Curtis in this situation, assuming we’re going with the early 2000’s Freaky Friday and not the 1990s remake or 1970s original.”

Oliver blinks, pinching the bridge of his nose carefully, trying to remain calm. “This isn’t helping.”

“Not in the slightest,” Barry agrees. “But, okay. Test run on Felicity, and all going well she’ll be able to help us convince Team Flash we aren’t insane.” Barry sighs. “We aren’t insane, right?”

Oliver frowns. “Remains to be seen, but I wouldn’t rule it out.”

There is a beat of stillness between them, both looking at the screen and the weird images that show their wrong lives.

“That’s comforting,” Barry tells him, before turning away from the screen. “Okay, let’s do this. Where do we find Felicity?”

Oliver checks his text messages again for details. “She’s at home.”

But Oliver doesn't make any movements towards leaving, his attention on the numerous messages he’s scrolling through again and again. Fuck. He's in a lot of trouble...and rightfully so. 

Barry clears his throat.

”Sorry man, but just a reminder, you have the super speed so if we are going to get anywhere fast-”

Oliver practically growls as he pockets his phone and glares at Barry. ”I know that Barry!”


	5. Five: Elseworlds, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: If they are going to get it the bottom of waking up in each other’s lives, Oliver and Barry are going to need Felicity’s help. But things rarely go as planned and Felicity isn’t just going to let Oliver off the hook for missing their counseling session that damn easy…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: It has taken me foreeevvverrrr to update this story because I deleted all unpublished chapters in spite (and sadness) after 7x22. Then, you know, I had some time to think about it and talk with some fandom friends, and I decided to continue rewriting anyway. So, here it is! I also added/fixed some things that transpired after the crossovers that I didn't like in canon. Sorry. This is what happens when EBR leaves the show and Arrow announces it's final season. I have feelings. 
> 
> I've lost full control over the length of this story. It'll be like a million chapters given my current pace. Is everyone cool with that?

 

 

**Elseworlds: Part 1**

William Clayton has always enjoyed school, and he’s always been good at it as an A student for most of his academic career to date, despite a couple of blemishes on his record where changing schools—and identities—had thrown him right in the deep end. But he’d always had the resilience and aptitude to put in the work and flourish...a trait his genetics had bestowed upon him in more ways than one.

But right now, Will’s genetics are strictly working _against_ him as he waits outside Principal Barker’s office for confirmation on his fate and future at Cambridge Academy. He had no regrets over his behavior—Cale Andrews was a spoilt brat who's mouthing off about Will being the son of a convicted murderer had escalated dramatically over the last few days—but not regretting his behavior didn’t absolve Will of the fear that punching the classmate that had made his life hellish, might be a more permanent blemish on his academic record than anything else before it.

Will frowns, adjusting his hold on the ice pack slightly, his right wrist is a bit numb from the impact against Cale’s surprisingly hard face, his left fingers cold and chilly from the ice. It is hard to fathom right now exactly how this is going to go. Will hadn't just punched a bully in the face, he’d punched the richest kid in school, and that came with a lot of complications, all now pointing to expulsion from school.

The sound of urgent footsteps carries down the quiet corridor of the Administration Building and Will looks up from his position on the bench seat outside Principal Baker’s office, finding his Aunt and Uncle hurrying towards him, simultaneous worried (Thea) and relieved (Roy) looks on their faces.

”Will, are you okay?” Thea breathes as she crouches down in front of him, desperately scanning for harm even though Principal Baker had been very adamant on the phone that Will had been the instigator and _not_ the victim. Not physically anyway.

Will nods sheepishly; he’s fine mostly and he doesn’t want his Aunt to make a fuss. Thea’s eyes fall on the ice pack and she sighs softly.

“You jammed your wrist, huh?” She asks kindly and Will nods.

”Yeah, and it’s throbbing a little,” he admits, and the way he downplays it, seems a little brooding and pensive about it, is so his Dad that both Roy and Thea exchange a side-eyed glance. It doesn’t go unnoticed to Will, and he feels a little silly given his Aunt and Uncle are badasses and never let injuries get them down. ”The nurse said it was fine...”

”Well, we’ll get you checked over anyway, just to be sure,” Thea assures Will as she rubs his shoulder comfortingly and gets to her feet again.

Will offers her another nod in reply at the fussing. His Mom would be worried but disappointed by his behavior, and the very thought makes his heart ache a little...this could be really bad. He’s really loved it here at this school, finally finding his way both with the teachers and a curriculum that was challenging and exciting, but the week since his Dad had been home from Slabside...it has put a lot of things into perspective for Will. No matter how turbulent it's been with bad guys and new identities, he has a family and a home with his Dad and Felicity in Star City; a family and a life he loves very much in spite of the trauma. And he’d give up a school like Cambridge Academy in a heartbeat to be back with them, back in _his_ normal life with its blatant ability to be anything but actually normal with Queen genes...

”Did you at least break the other kid’s nose-?” Roy starts to ask but the disbelieving look Thea shoots him along with a hissed ” _Roy_!” makes him rethink his question, and Roy clears his throat, trying to not appear too proud that Will had punched what he’s pretty sure is the asshat kid Will had told him about last week. “I mean I guess that's not really important right now...”

The door to the Principal Baker’s office opens and Simone Taylor, Felicity’s MIT roommate and Will’s teacher steps out, followed by Cale and his Mom. She tries to give Will a reassuring smile but it doesn’t seem as positive as usual and Will’s stomach drops a little.

Cale’s face is mostly obscured by a cloth stained with blood, but he looks almost gleeful at the situation. Mrs. Andrews looks at them sourly, and Thea has to try really hard not to roll her eyes at the hypocrisy of it all.

Had she forgotten before the Green Arrow, the Queen name was synonymous with wealth and status not just in Star City, but around the world, for decades?

That life might be well behind them now and even though their family name no longer comes with the large endowment of a Fortune 500 company, their family is still famous. And at the very least, Oliver is the damn Green Arrow, a hero.

Carol glares at the three of them, like Thea Queen and her riff-raff nephew and boyfriend are so very beneath her, before adjusting the strap on her expensive handbag and striding away, her hand protectively on her son’s shoulder as she pushes him down the hallway, the red of her Louboutin heels matching the splatters of blood down Cale’s uniform. As they reach the hallway door Cale looks back at them with another look of joy on his face as he secretly flips William the bird without his Mom seeing.

And then they are gone, leaving Miss Taylor at Will’s side. She exhales loudly in defeat and it is a bad sign.

”Well, he’s _charming,”_ Thea quips nodding in the direction Cale and his Mom had just left in; Roy laughs gruffly, but Will knows otherwise.

“What he said about Dad...about Felicity...about Mom...he’s horrid. And he deserved it.”

Ms. Taylor grimaces; Will isn’t wrong, but it doesn’t bode well for him. Cale’s a handful to teach, unfocused and entitled. It sucks that a kid like him robs Will of his opportunities here.

”That might be true Will, but Mr. Baker isn’t going to let this go lightly.”

Thea’s brow knits and her heart goes out to Will because he seems really upset by whatever Cale had said. She’d figured something must have happened to provoke him--Will wasn’t really accustomed to ever settling anything physically despite his genetics --and it must have been bad to punch the kid in the face.

“Even though this Cale kid is clearly a jerk?” Thea asks. “He’s had it out for Will for a few of weeks now.”

Simone nods her long dark ponytail bouncing a little. She looks pained and annoyed at the situation and the injustice this is causing her friend’s son. Truth be told, she’d really enjoyed having Will as her student. His passion for Tech reminded her so much of Felicity when she was at MIT that it was hard to remember Will wasn’t Felicity’s biological kid.

“Especially since Cale’s Grandparents last year endowed the school a $12million dollar state of the art library. He comes from a legacy family, Cale’s the third of five boys. I’d say Principal Baker’s hands are going to be pretty _tied_.”

“They are going to expel Will aren’t they?” Thea asks, and Simone frowns.

“Honestly? Yes. I mean I have tried, pleaded...I know how important this is for William...to Felicity...to stay here but, Mrs. Andrews is arguing that William is violent and should be removed from the school...”

“Cale’s barely even hurt!” Will protests, but Roy claps a hand on Will’s shoulder comfortingly.

He sees this for what it really is. They all do.

“Hey Bud, unfortunately, this is less about what you did, and more about what it means in relation to who you are, and who your Dad is. You know a lot of people don’t understand the good your Dad does. It’s a grey area, and forcing people to understand is just a waste of your efforts.”

Will frowns, his shoulders sagging a little.

“You mean I am being expelled because my Dad is the Green Arrow?”

Will looks at the three adults around him, carefully studying each of their reactions. Miss Taylor’s lips purse together in hesitation but Will sees right through it; yes.

”No, Will, that’s not exactly all of it...” Thea tells him, pulling his attention back to her, despite the earnest look his teacher is giving him. ”You’re being targeted because people fear what they don’t understand. Their small-mindedness, their judgment of your Dad because he went to prison...because of things he did in the past...that scares them. And you hitting Cale Andrews in the face no matter how deserving reminds them of that.”

Will frowns. “I want to go home. To Dad and Felicity. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Thea and Roy share a look; one that says they’d been here over and over again over the last few days as Will had pleaded to go home, but this time, their answer, their approach was going to be different. It had to be.

“Then, let’s not even worry about what this Principal has to say, and just go home. To Star City,” Roy suggests.

Will hesitates, but his relief is clear. “Really?” He breathes desperately, looking at his Aunt who is really the one that makes the bulk of decisions. “Because you’ve been saying no for days...”

Thea’s demeanor softens, her voice tender as she replies. “I know. But, that’s because your Dad and Felicity wanted you to finish out your classes here until Christmas. However, this changes things. I’m not letting you take the punishment for this. Do you have everything valuable from your locker?” Thea asks Will and he nods in reply before looking to Ms. Taylor.

“Thank you, for everything,” he says sheepishly, but Simone smiles widely in reply.

“Good luck William.”

Thea gives Simone and appreciative smile, one that says thank you for having their back.

“Okay then,” Thea says, giving Simone a grateful wave before winding her arm around Will’s shoulders. “Okay kiddo, Let’s get you home to your Dad and Felicity.”

 

*

Roy takes the last mouthful of his burger, watching Thea as she picks at her now lukewarm chips, and half-eaten meal. She’d sworn after their quick trip to the doctor to check Will’s wrist that Big Belly for a late lunch would lift their spirits, but so far the little crease of worry had settled between her eyes, and she’d been gnawing on her bottom lip ever since Will had slipped out of his seat at the booth across from her to go and order dessert.

”Are you sure this was a good idea?” she asks Roy again and he shrugs, wiping his fingers on a napkin as he finishes his mouthful of food.

”Nope,” he admits. ”Not in the slightest. But it’s done now. And I think that even though Oliver and Felicity are going through a lot right now, so is Will, and he needs them. We’ve seen how much he misses them, Thea. You both do.”

Thea makes a face, one that says this conversation is dangerously close to emotional territory she doesn’t really want to tackle here in Big Belly, but her reaction softens a little at the look on Roy’s face.

“And, I miss them as well,” he admits.

Thea frowns, dropping her head in her hands and rubbing at her eyes. ”Ugh, this parenting stuff is hard. And I am only his Aunt. I don’t envy them, I don’t. Not that he’s a hard kid to parent, he’s a sweetheart, but always worrying about making the right decisions...it makes it a million times worse with a kid depending on you.”

”Hey, you are doing an amazing job as his guardian, _and_ his Aunt,” Roy tells her, reaching for her hand, and squeezing his fingers between hers, making the corners of her mouth lifted a little. ”And, it’s all good practice, you know? I mean, neither of us really had great role models so we’re bound to make a few mistakes along the way...”

Thea chews at her bottom lip pensively; that’s a lot to process... ”Roy, I love you. And I want a future with you, I do. I just don't know if that means kids or not...”

Roy chuckles, squeezing her hand again.

”Thea, trust me, I wasn't trying to have the baby talk with you. I was trying to commend you, on what an amazing job you are doing with William. I swear.”

Thea breathes a sigh of relief.

”I just want to do right by Ollie and Felicity; I want them to feel like they made the right choice by sending Will into hiding. Sending William away with us was a miserable choice for Felicity, one I know my brother didn't make easy for her. I just want them to feel comfortable with us as Will’s guardians when they can’t be.”

”You think they don't?”

Thea shrugs, watching the kid she didn't know she needed in her life and now couldn't imagine her life without, step up to the counter to order his sundae.

”I think they are, or at least were,just as out of their depth as we are. I guess...at the end of the day, Oliver took a risk to keep his family safe. He went to Slabside to protect Felicity and Will, and to get rid of Diaz before he hurt anyone else. And, it didn't go to plan. Sending Will away came at a high cost for everyone. But if William is happy and healthy right now after everything, and Diaz is finally behind bars, then it was worth it.”

”So what now?” Roy asks. He’d follow Thea anywhere, and this one was her decision.

Thea thinks for a moment, watching Will. “We go home...to Star City...we spend Christmas with our friends and family, then once the holiday season is over, we get back to work...”

Roy smiles. ”Hunting and destroying Lazarus Pits and running from the Thanatos Guild?”

Thea grins. ”Yeah. You got a better idea?”

Roy shakes his head; that plan is 100% okay by him. “Nope. But I must admit, I do miss Nyssa winding you up....”

Thea beams. ”I miss that strange little weirdo too. She grows on you, don't you think?”

Roy laughs. ”Do you think if we invite her for Christmas she’ll tell Donna about the sister-wife thing? Because I would pay money to witness that conversation. Oliver would _literally turn green_ if she brought it up in front of Donna...it would be so worth it...”

Thea’s eyes sparkle with laughter and she claps her hands together. ”That’s so mean....” she laughs, before reaching for her phone. ”But, I am texting her right now. _Meet us in Star City for the holidays question mark_...”

The couple laughs together as Thea finishes her text, but as soon as she hits send on the message, Thea is once again filled with dread at the prospect of filling Oliver and Felicity in about the decision she’d just made to pull Will out of school before he was expelled. Thea sighs heavily.

”I really need to call Felicity and explain how I literally just pulled the rug out from underneath them,” she laments. ”Is that a video chat conversation do you think, or can I do that in a text?”

She knows the answer. She has to make the call. But it doesn’t make it any easier. 

Roy gives her a reassuring smile.

”Babe, I am sure Felicity’s pretty used to things not quite going to plan by now. You have to rip the bandaid off.”

Thea makes a face, one that distinctly says she doesn’t want to, and it makes Roy chuckle. “How about you call Felicity, and I’ll get you a thick shake?”

Thea sigh, scrolling through her missed calls to find Felicity’s name. “Fine, you have a deal. But it better be extra thick and double chocolate.”

Roy grins. “Done,” he says, and slides out of his seat, kissing Thea softly on top of the head before walking away to join Will at the counter.

“Thank you!” Thea calls after him and hits call on Felicity’s name. “Sorry, Felicity but here comes another bombshell....” she tells the dial tone preparing herself to explain the whole situation, but to Thea’s surprise, the call goes straight to voicemail.

 

*

**[This world can hurt you**

**It cuts you deep and leaves a scar**

**Things fall apart, but nothing breaks like a heart...]**

Felicity isn’t actually at their apartment when Oliver and Barry arrive from the decimated bunker, and Oliver would be lying if he wasn't a little apprehensive about what that means.

With a heavy heart he still searches every room, checking his and Felicity’s, and William’s bedroom three times; like somehow checking again would make her appear. It is at that point Barry steps in, tries to school his features as neutrally as possible--pointedly ignoring the moments in photographs around the apartment where he’s replaced Oliver--as he finally suggests, “ _Oliver_ , Felicity isn’t here.”

Oliver sighs, running his hand across his face desperately before settling them on his hips as he finally stops in the middle of the living room. His eyes seek out the wedding photographs on the small end table next to the sofa they’d only just reframed yesterday…and yes, this is actually happening. He and Barry have traded lives. Something is very wrong with reality.

”Is there somewhere else she would be?” Barry suggests softly; he notes that Felicity’s computer is running an algorithm, the screen flashing with actions and codes as it searches.

But it’s second nature to Oliver and he pays it no mind. It’s scanning for his Green Arrow doppelgänger, which is actually the least of his concerns right now. Which, is saying something given the last twelve months of Oliver’s life.

”Maybe she stepped out to get groceries? Or coffee?” Barry offers, trying to be helpful.

But Oliver makes a face. Felicity refuses to grocery shop unless groceries include Rocky Road or Mint Chip ice cream and ingredients to make chili, burgers or cookies. And she’s not exactly the pop out for a quick coffee type of person either right now, especially with the large media circus around Oliver working with the SCPD as the unmasked Green Arrow. He steps towards her desk and searches for her tablet—the screen that's practically attached to her like another limb, one he sometimes has to (mostly gently) remove from her hands to finally get to her go to sleep—and finds it secured in the top drawer of her desk, just waiting for her return. If she’s not here (with her tablet), or at the loft (with her tablet)…that only leaves…

”I know where she is,” Oliver breathes with relief, taking long strides back towards the front door, determined as ever to find his wife, and expecting Barry to follow.

Barry hesitates for a moment, eyeballing the photograph on the bookcase of himself and Felicity on the top of a mountain smiling at the camera and frowns. “This is _so_ weird.”

 

*

Barry’s face colors with confusion as Oliver leads him to the double glass doors of the Main St entrance of the Glades Community Gym. Of all places to find Felicity, this would easily be the bottom of his list.

“I assumed you were taking me to a temporary bunker or her office _or_ something. Not this,” Barry admits, following Oliver through the doors.

Oliver doesn’t reply and instead leads him past the unmanned front desk and towards the boxing area on the right. It’s a quiet time of day, early afternoon and after the lunchtime rush, and aside from a mixed age Zumba glass in the adjacent classroom and a petite blond woman _pummelling_ a boxing bag, the place is empty.

Oliver stops momentarily, his eyes fixed on the blond and then Barry realizes.

“Oh _wow_ ,” he says, watching the woman beat the bag furiously in a coordinated assault of punch, punch, punch, punch, kick, kick. It’s Felicity, beads of sweat slicking her forehead and high ponytail, her mood as thunderous as the black compression tights and black singlet she’s wearing.

She notices them, landing another set of punches before she sighs, moving back from the bag to frown at her shoes as she catches her breath and wipes her forearm against her forehead, swiping up sweat.

“Yeah,” Oliver breathes like he’s horrendously nervous and relieved at the same time.

“She looks mad,” Barry says. “That appointment must have been important.”

Barry watches as Felicity resets, going another round with her jaw clenched tightly.She’d be lying if she wasn’t just a little bit chuffed that the men--the crime-fighting superhero men--in her life look impressed...

Oliver has to commend her form, she’s made huge strides over the last few days with his instruction; but part of him also realizes very soberly that her rage is probably channelled into hating him right now, which is pretty valid but no less painful, given Diaz has been the focus of her disdain for months. It’ll make a heavy addition to their program with Dr. Azzopardi...if they can make the next appointment together...

“It was probably the worst thing I could have missed,” Oliver admits. He takes a deep breath like he’s composing himself--and Barry has to admit, he’s seen Oliver in some tight spots, but he’s never seen him this _rattled_ \--and then moves towards her.

“Oh good, so we’re doing this now then?” Barry asks. But he grabs at Oliver’s arm, halting him, pointing Oliver’s attention to a poster on the nearby noticeboard.

“Wait, is that Rene? He teaches boxing now?”

“Yes.”

“I thought he worked at City Hall?”

Oliver frowns. “Not anymore.”

Barry’s brow knits. “So, John is at ARGUS, Rene is working at a boxing gym, and Felicity is Holy Holm’ing it on a Tuesday. What happened to Team Arrow?”

Oliver gives Barry an earnest look. “I went to prison...and blew up everyone’s life.”

Barry blinks at his friend. How easy that rolled off Oliver’s tongue despite the pain in his eyes is a little confronting.

“Should we maybe talk about that?” Barry suggests, possibly a little too brightly, but Oliver grunts a no and side-steps Barry, his focus on Felicity as he heads towards her, his long strides showing reckless desperation and determination to see his wife. But, Felicity isn’t Oliver’s wife, she’s technically Barry’s, and Barry speeds up (the old fashioned way which feels strange) falling into step with his friend, trying his best to replicate Oliver’s determination so this at least feels as natural as it can.

Felicity shakes her head, huffing with distrust as they approach.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now Oliver...” she says with annoyance, pulling off one glove and stretching out her sweaty fingers.

She turns her back on Barry as she keeps her feet moving, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet, keeping her heart rate up as she takes a small break.

Oliver’s breath catches in his chest, the hurt crossing his face and Barry sighs and steps forward. ’ _I’ve got this’_ is implied...and Oliver has to try _very_ hard to keep his wits about him.

“ _Fe-lic-ity_ -” Barry says in a voice much lower than normal and Oliver tries not to roll his eyes at Barry. Because I mean... _c’ mon_...he doesn't sound like that..., right?

”...We need your help,” Barry tells her, continuing on with his voice more measured and seriously as he tries momentarily to appear as natural as he can like the real Oliver.

But Felicity won’t look at him, instead, she shoves her hand forcefully back into her glove. Her movements are jerky and angry as she shakes her head in frustration and hurt at Oliver’s request.

“Yeah, and I needed you to be where you _said_ were you going to be today at one.” She taps her gloves together and moves back towards the punching bag, turning her back to Oliver and Barry, trying in vain to block them out.

“Felicity, _please_ ,” Oliver as Barry practically whines, and Barry can just feel how bad this is going to go. He needs Oliver to keep his shit together, but the longer Oliver watches Felicity with that look of desperate longing, like he’s pining for her to recognize what she couldn’t possibly know, that he’s actually her husband, the more Barry feels like maybe this was a bad start to getting someone to understand that somehow, someone or something, had rewritten reality.

Felicity laughs hauntingly like she’s sad and angry and hurt all at once.

“ _What_ , Barry?” She snaps to Oliver, catching him off guard with her tone and volume. “Don’t get me wrong, but the last time you just showed up like this in Star City you’d done something incredibly stupid to the timeline, so unless the world is _literally_ going to end...”

“Felicity I know you’re hurt but please hear us out...” Oliver begins but Barry decides to jump in because Oliver is going to just ruin this whole thing...

“We’ve life swapped,” Barry tells Felicity, stepping between her and Oliver. He gestured to himself and Oliver in turn. “I’m Barry and he’s Oliver. _We’ve swapped lives._ ”

Felicity stops, the punching bag swinging precariously beside them with the momentum of her previous punches. “ _What_?” And her tone says it all; her loud voice is only a breath away...

“As crazy as it sounds,” Oliver admits calmly, his shoulders tall, broad and confident, like he’s realized that his tact really needs to sell this in; he has to pull his emotions back a bit, until she believes him. “he’s telling the truth, _Fe-lic-ity_ , please.”

Felicity stares at them both, her eyes darting between them in a look that is completely dumbfounded before she huffs another almost disgusted and disbelieving laugh.

“Oh Oliver Queen, you have given me some truly _terrible_ stories over the years. I thought I ran out of sports bottles was _literally_ _the worst_. But this takes the cake. A _life-swap_? You expect me to believe that?”

Felicity shakes her head angrily, grabbing for her towel and trying to stalk off but Oliver won't let her. He jumps in front of her, his arms outstretched at his sides like he’s trying to calm an animal that’s been spooked. But it fails. Felicity growls--a move that Barry is totally going to tease them about later because it is totally an Oliver move--and steps around him, pushing _Barry’s_ arms out of the way.

“Felicity wait, this is real--”

Felicity stops, her eyes boring into Barry’s like she’s trying to crack a code she hadn't seen until moments before. ”I swear honey... _baby_ , this is real. You have to believe me. _Please_.”

Felicity stops and blatantly _stares_ at Oliver. _At_ _Oliver_...it’s like the foggy cloud that's been in her head all morning, the one she’s ignored because she thought it was just her broken sleep pattern, and the emotional fallout about the session with the counselor...

Felicity turns her head slightly, her eyes falling on Barry, his lanky limbs and that hesitant almost wide-eyed look on his face. Oh, frack...? What on earth is going on?

“Barry, what did you do?” Felicity hisses, her eyebrows high as she rounds on her friend and Oliver breathes a very loud sigh of relief.

She believes him. Thank god she believes him...

“Hey!” Barry defends, palms up.

“This isn’t his fault...” Oliver makes a face. ”At least I don’t think it is his fault…” Oliver tries to placate but Barry frowns.

“Come on man. We already talked about that...” Barry gives Felicity a pleading look. ”I didn't do anything, I swear.”

Felicity looks back to Oliver, the real Oliver and her anger, it just _vanishes_. This explains nothing and everything all at the same time. They are both looking at her eyes filled with worry and hope and Felicity realizes that no matter how much her day has been hell, it probably doesn't compare to theirs.

“Barry, can we have a moment please?” Felicity asks, and Barry agrees, albeit reluctantly, stepping away to give them a moment’s privacy.

“You believe me?” Oliver asks, almost a little breathlessly, and Felicity takes a long moment to look at him, really look at him carefully before she nods.

”Oliver, tell me what’s going on, ” she encourages.

Her voice is calmer, softer and kinder, and Oliver physically has to stop himself from pulling her into his arms and just holding her for a moment. Until this all passes.

”We... _I_...need your help,” he says softly, and she pointedly tries to not react to the pleading look on his face. Because it's so tender it nearly breaks her heart. Suddenly they are back right in the little Motel 6 bathroom right after she’s sprung him from Slabside and he’s looking at her with hurt and worry etched on his face. She takes a step closer, and very carefully removes her right glove and takes his hand. It's a lifeline, one Oliver is grateful for as his eyes slide closed for a minute, her touch grounding him, calming him.

”Okay, you have it,” Felicity agrees softly. It's the voice he’s so familiar with at night as she talks about her day or her thoughts as they settle to sleep and it instantly helps calm the raging panic flitting through Oliver’s body. ”A minute ago... you were each other. But now...I mean I know you are Oliver, but you aren’t Oliver, you know? Which is strange and creepy and very _very_ weird given all our personal history, but...what happened? You need to tell me everything you know. _Now_.”

 

*

The mid-afternoon is a blur of trying to disentangle Oliver and Barry’s lives in Central City with Team Flash; But, things don’t quite go to plan even with Felicity on their side.

Even though S.T.A.R Labs is a lot better equipped with experts and machines to run tests on Barry and Oliver than the broken down Bunker (and admittedly broken down Team Arrow), the results fail to produce any real proof that their claims are true. The world is rigged against them, their identities completely swapped and at odds with the reality Barry, Oliver and Felicity know to be the truth.

Team Flash skirt around the possibility that the _three_ of them are brainwashed by some shared mystical psychosis—perhaps meta related?—and tempers flare momentarily when Sherloque makes a less than eloquent remark that maybe it is all an elaborate wife-swap plan on Felicity’s behalf. One Iris hadn’t bargained for.

Felicity has to make a quick move to stop Oliver from losing his temper and downright _thumping_ the Harrison Wells doppelgänger with his speedy fists, which unsurprisingly prompts an overwhelmed Iris to leave the room.

”I’ll talk to her,” Felicity calmly reassures a worried Barry, who has little more to do as Oliver Queen than stand silently in the lab and brood over the fact that everyone believing he is Oliver Queen is turning him into a carbon copy of his mentor’s broodier alter ego.

Felicity gives Iris a small head start, takes a few moments to remind the real Oliver that she’s definitely been called worse before—the gossip columns haven't been particularly kind over the years—before she follows her friend’s path away from the Main Lab and down the hallway to the large open plan kitchen and adjoining balcony.

She finds a pensive Iris on the balcony staring out at the very impressive view of Central City with thick tears running down her cheek; tears she hastily wipes away on the sleeve of her jumper when Felicity appears at her side.

”I sometimes forget just how big S.T.A.R Labs is,” Felicity tells Iris with a humble smile, her eyes scanning the lovely view of downtown Central City. ”Team Arrow has been underground so long, first with the Foundry, then with the Bunker, it must be nice to have windows, a view and fresh air.”

”It is,” Iris admits with a sad smile as she turns towards Felicity. “Sometimes, when it's all a bit much Barry and I come up here with fresh coffee and just take a minute to just be us, you know?”

Felicity smiles, shoving her hands into the hip pockets of her leather jacket.

”Oliver and I used to have a spot in the bunker too,” Felicity admits. “Just for us.The view wasn’t that amazing, it was just the training mats on the second floor, but when we turned off the main lights the green backup lighting shone through the ceiling mesh like twinkle lights. It was sort of like looking at the night sky - if you know if the stars were green and bright and shaped like little mesh holes.” Iris huffs a laugh and Felicity’s smile brightens, hoping her story has broken through the tough exterior her friend had been hiding behind in the main lab.

”Sorry to run away,” Iris apologises, ”I just needed some air. It’s hard to think in there with all the maybes and science floating around. Sherloque didn’t exactly help the situation either.”

Felicity had thought it might have helped make their claims more legitimate if Oliver-Barry defended Felicity’s honor...but it hadn't, it had made Iris more uncomfortable. More _jealous_. And definitely more hurt.

Felicity blows out a breath. “No he did not,” she admits, but when Iris laughs Felicity offers her a sympathy smile. “I’m sorry that got so weird in there. I know this must seem crazy, and there is a lot to comprehend. When they sprung this all on me earlier, I wasn't exactly on board right away either.”

 

”I guess nothing can really prepare you for the day your husband comes home claiming he’s switched lives with your friend’s husband,” Iris sighs.

”Well it isn’t exactly the first time I’ve come face to face with another version of Oliver. I’ll take a life-swap over a Nazi doppelgänger any day,” Felicity jokes trying to lighten the mood, but Iris doesn't return her look with levity, and Felicity clears her throat nervously.

”Listen, Iris-”

”Do you really believe what they are saying is true?” Iris asks, her voice laced with disbelief and hurt. ”That _somehow_ , for _some_ reason, they woke up in each other’s lives?”

”I think somehow, for some reason, someone wants us to believe that yes. And I know it sounds crazy-”

”Extremely crazy,” Iris mutters, but to her surprise, Felicity just smiles, her warm nature a frustrating contrast to this situation so much that it makes Iris tut. ”I know you believe them Felicity, but it doesn't make any sense. Not for the rest of us.”

Iris wants to believe them, she really does...but the tests had said exactly what Team Flash had expected, Barry Allen, despite his insistence at being Oliver Queen (and vice versa), is actually Barry Allen. And his continued protests at not only not being who he clearly was, but his alliance with Felicity was starting to bubble away at an insecurity Iris hadn’t faced for years. One that told her despite all their history together and love for each other, on an intellectual science genius level, even on a superhero level given Felicity’s near superhero abilities as Overwatch, that Barry and Felicity might in one shape or form, be a better match…

“Iris I know this sounds crazy, ridiculous even with everything we’ve already seen over the last few years...but I swear, _I_ promise, something _really is_ wrong with reality. Really _really_ wrong. Oliver and Barry _have_ swapped lives. You must feel it--deep down in that amazing intuition of yours--that this whole situation isn’t quite right...?”

Felicity looks at Iris expectantly, hopeful that her words are making some kind of sense to the curious investigative reporter, but it seems to make no difference, no matter how many times Felicity tries to explain it.

Iris sighs heavily, chewing at her bottom lip thoughtfully as she contemplates how to respond. She knows that Felicity’s gone through a lot lately and she doesn’t want to sound awful but...

“Felicity, are you sure that after...Slabside..., you’re not just hoping that this...prank...or whatever it is, is true?”

Felicity’s brow knits. She tries not to react until she fully understandings what exactly Iris is suggesting but it’s damn hard to let that second half of her comment go. “After Slabside?” She clarifies.

Iris gulps a little. What she’s suggesting is horrid but…oh boy, she’s just opened an Oliver Queen sized can of worms she’d been keeping closed. But here they were, and Iris couldn’t avoid the difficult conversation about her feelings towards what Oliver did to Felicity any longer.

“You know, after Oliver... _betrayed_ you, turned himself in to the FBI and tore you and William’s life apart? It can't have been easy dealing with all that Felicity. On either any of you, on your marriage, on your relationship, on your son.I know we’ve barely spoken since you’ve been back in Star City but--“

Iris’ word falter as Barry and Oliver step into the kitchen, the men searching them out.

“ _Iris_ ,” Felicity says as nicely, but firmly, as she can muster, turning her back on Barry and Oliver so she can say what she needs to say to Iris as privately as possible. ”I don't need you to recap or question the last few months. Right now, _honestly_ , I need you to focus on how you feel when you look at Barry and Oliver, or whomever they appear to be. Does it feel right? Because it did for me too, until Oliver-- _Barry_ \--said the smallest thing, three words that changed my mind. And then all of my real memories came flooding through and I couldn't see him as anyone but Oliver... _because that is who he really is_...”

Iris sighs, glancing over Felicity’s shoulder to where Barry and Oliver are talking together, their nervous eyes flitting between their and Iris and Felicity’s conversation impatiently. Their hopeful looks splinter Iris’ nerves a little. They are counting on Felicity to help convince Iris, and so far she hasn't been very successful.

“I mean, he’s Barry, Felicity. _My Barry_...”

“But, is he though?” Felicity pushes. “Is he doing that thing where he stands, hands on hips, looking at his shoes, his shoulders broad and high. And he’s chewing on one side of his lip. His right hand will drop, just for a moment, and his thumb and forefinger will rub together. It means he’s grounding himself; he’s worried. It’s a tick he has, it’s from his bow, a mental Oliver thing. Because he _is_ Oliver. He’s trying not to react poorly...but right now, Iris—even without this complication—he’s in a lot of pain. Slabside is still so damn fresh to him. And it crushed him. This is crushing him. Please, Iris, you know it's true...he’s not really Barry...”

Felicity might be right, Barry is doing exactly as Felicity’s described, but it is a nervous tick _Barry’s_ had for as long as Iris can remember. Felicity’s words falls on deaf ears and Iris sighs, and crosses her arm defensively across her chest.

”This time last year Oliver’s evil Nazi doppelgänger crashed my wedding and tried to kill everyone. This year, you and Oliver turn up on the week of our anniversary, right in the middle of dealing with Cicada and declare that Oliver and Barry have switched lives. But this time you’ve somehow sucked Barry into it too. Felicity, I love you, I do, but Oliver is quicksand. He always has been. And the more you take on his struggles, his battles, his darkness…you sink.”

Felicity frowns and steps forward so she can lower her voice to a soft but firm whisper, one the boys can’t possibly hear let alone see. ”That’s not fair Iris. He’s a good man. A loving husband and an incredible father. He might not have a day or a coffee or a stupid dance named after him, but Oliver is a hero. And you might judge him if he doesn't make the same decisions you would in his position, but as his wife...as your friend...I don't have to stand here and listen to it.”

”Felicity-” Iris starts, but the damage is done.

”If you don't want to help us Iris, then we’ll just figure it out without you.”

Felicity gives her a moment to protest, to apologize, to react any other way than throwing Oliver under the bus, but Iris doesn't. She’s hurt and sad and confused.

”I’m sorry,” Iris tells her, the words _but I still don't believe you_ hang in the air between them.

”So am I,” Felicity admits sadly. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments feed my muse! Hit me up on https://by-mintsea.tumblr.com/ if you want to chat.


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